Jason had learned, in the way you only learn things by living through them too many times, that arguments with Bruce never really ended. They didn’t resolve or settle into anything resembling closure. They just… stalled. Paused. Hung in the air like something unfinished, waiting to be picked apart again later.
And now—
Now it felt like it had reached the tip of the blade.
Sharp. Tense. One wrong push away from cutting deeper than either of them could take back.
Because without even talking to him—without even discussing it—Bruce had decided Jason was off duty.
Because he was, apparently, “in no shape emotionally to be on the streets.”
What?
What the hell was that supposed to mean?
Since when did Bruce get to decide what shape Jason was in?
Since when did he get to look at him and reduce everything Jason was feeling, everything he’d been carrying, into something that could be dismissed with a single sentence?
And the worst part?
Bruce hadn’t even said it like it was a punishment. No, he said it like he was doing him a favour.
Measured in that careful, controlled way that never left room for argument. Not because it was loud, but because it sounded so certain.
So final.
Like this wasn’t a discussion. Like it had never been one to begin with.
He’d spoken like he was stating a fact. Like he was doing the responsible thing. Like this was something obvious. Something anyone with sense would agree with.
Like Jason was the only one too stubborn to see it.
He’d gone on about how it wasn’t a decision made capriciously. That only people who had their heads screwed on right were fit for this line of work.
Like Jason didn’t.
Like Jason couldn’t.
That part stuck longer than it should have. Because it wasn’t just about the streets anymore, was it?
It wasn’t just about patrols or criminals or missions. It was about him.
About who Bruce thought he was becoming.
Or maybe—worse—who Bruce thought he’d always been.
Like Jason wasn’t stable enough. Like he couldn’t be trusted to draw the line in the right place. Like he was already halfway past it.
So Jason didn’t argue. Didn’t even trust himself to talk about it without emotions flaring up even more.
He just… left. Walked out without slamming the door, without looking back, without saying anything that might crack something open that couldn’t be fixed.
And then he kept walking.
At first, it was just to get distance. To put space between himself and that suffocating, controlled quiet Bruce always carried with him.
But then the walking didn’t stop.
Three hours of it—aimless, restless, burning off the anger that refused to settle no matter how hard he tried to outrun it. He didn’t even realize where his feet were taking him until the buildings changed.
Until the streets got narrower. Dirtier. Familiar.
Crime Alley. Of course.
HIs old neighbourhood. His home.
Memories didn’t just resurface—they hit. Hard and fast and uninvited. His parents. Their smiles. The way everything had ended too abruptly.
Just as he was about to leave, it turns out, his mother’s friend, Mrs Walker, spotted him, and called him up to her apartment. She had kept a box of his family’s possessions, just in case he ever came back.
Thank god she did.
Jason hadn’t said it out loud, but yeah. He was grateful.
Because inside that box were pieces of something he thought he’d lost for good. Something he never thought he’d be able to get.
The last pieces of them. His life before meeting Bruce. Before Robin. Before everything.
Now he sat on his bed, the box open in front of him.
It was quiet. Too quiet.
The kind of silence that pressed in on you if you let it.
Carefully, Jason reached inside, fingers hesitant, like the past might shatter if he handled it too roughly.
He pulled out a photo frame. And there they were.
Him. His mum. His dad.
Frozen in a moment of something warm and whole and alive—a moment that felt so distant now it might as well have belonged to strangers. It left something bitter in his chest. Something that didn’t go away when he exhaled. Because that morning’s conversation—if it could even be called that—kept replaying in his head.
Over.
And over.
And over.
How the hell could Bruce decide something like that on his own? Pull him off Robin duties like Jason was just—what? A liability? A ticking bomb that was waiting to go off?
They were supposed to be partners. Partners. Not… this. Whatever this was.
So what if he’d been a little rough the past few nights? So what if he’d pushed further—crossed that invisible line Bruce was so obsessed with drawing, like it meant something, like it protected anything? So what if he’d gone a little harder on a few lowlifes, finished things with more force than Bruce would’ve liked?
We don’t cross that line.
They’ll go to prison.
There are procedures even we have to follow.
No.
They deserved it.
Every single one of them. This wasn’t random. It wasn’t senseless.
They made their choices. They knew what they were doing. The deals, the threats, the violence, the moments where they looked at another person and decided that their life, their safety, their fear didn’t matter.
They knew exactly what they were doing.
Knew people would get hurt. Knew people did get hurt. And they did it anyway. Over and over again, like it was nothing. Like the consequences didn’t apply to them.
And Jason was supposed to what—hold back?
Pull his punches? Make sure they walked away with nothing worse than a few bruises and a court date they wouldn’t even take seriously?
And prison?
Prison wasn’t going to change them.
It never did. When has it ever?
It wasn’t some kind of turning point. It wasn’t redemption. It was just… time. Time they waited out. Time they endured. Time that passed until they could walk right back out those doors and pick up exactly where they left off.
When had it ever been different? When had it ever worked? They walked in, did their time, walked out—and went right back to it.
Back to the same streets. The same crimes. The same victims.
Again.
And again.
And again.
A cycle so predictable it might as well have been scripted.
And everyone just accepted it. Called it justice. Called it enough. But it wasn’t enough. It was never enough.
Not for the people who had to live with what was done to them. Not for the ones who didn’t get to walk away at all. Because the system let them come back. Gave them chance after chance after chance—
While the people they hurt didn’t even get one.
Unless someone finally made it stick. Made it so they couldn’t come back. Couldn’t hurt anyone else. Couldn’t keep walking through life like the damage they caused was something temporary, something that could just… fade. Something permanent. Something that actually meant something.
“For every action in this universe, there is an equal and opposite reaction. Consequences, Robin. There’s no escaping them.”
Bruce’s voice echoed in his head, steady and unwavering. Certain. And it only made something in Jason twist tighter.
He let out a quiet, humorless breath, something bitter curling sharp in his chest.
No escaping them?
Then what about the ones who did? What about the ones who always did?
What about the bastards like Felipe—men with power, money, influence. With the kind of power that twisted everything around them until consequences became optional.
Until justice became something you could avoid.
They didn’t get dragged through the system. They owned it. Walked through it untouched, unbothered, like it was built to protect them instead.
And what about the people they left behind?
What about people like Gloria? People who didn’t have power. Didn’t have a voice. Didn’t have anyone coming to save them. People who got cornered—backed into spaces so small, so suffocating, that there was nowhere left to go.
No way out. No way to fight back. No way to win.
Until the only control they had left… was how it ended. Because living stopped being living to them. It became survival. Then it became pain. Then it became something worse than either of those—something that dragged on and on until even breathing felt like a punishment.
Because the people who did that to them—
The ones responsible—were still out there. Still walking free. Still laughing, still breathing, still living their lives like nothing had happened. Like they hadn’t happened. And Jason was supposed to believe in a system that allowed that?
He was supposed to stand there, hold back, trust that things would “work out” the right way? That consequences would come eventually?
When?
After how many more victims? After how many more lives ruined? After how many more people like Gloria decided that the only way to escape the pain was to stop existing in it?
His jaw tightened, fingers curling into his palms. Bruce talked about consequences like they were inevitable.
Like they were fair. Like the world actually worked that way. Like everything balanced out in the end. Like if you just waited long enough, trusted hard enough, believed in it enough—things would right themselves.
But Jason had seen it. Lived it. He knew better. Consequences didn’t come for everyone. Not equally. Not fairly. Not even consistently.
Sometimes they came too hard, too fast. Crushing the people who didn’t deserve it. And sometimes… Sometimes they didn’t come at all. Not for the ones who should’ve been buried under them.
So if the world wasn’t going to make things right… Then maybe someone had to. And maybe that someone… couldn’t afford to hesitate.
Because who was Bruce to stand there and talk about right and wrong like it was that simple? Who was Bruce to believe in something that kept letting people fall through the cracks? Who was he to tell Jason to hold back—
When holding back never saved anyone?
Who was he to draw that line and expect Jason to stay behind it when the people on the other side were the ones still getting hurt? Who was he to decide what justice was supposed to look like when it clearly wasn’t working? Who was he to ask for patience when patience had already cost too much?
Who was he to—
Knock. Knock.
The sound cut through his thoughts, causing Jason to still, jaw tightening, fingers still curled loosely around the edge of the photo frame. There were only two people who would bother coming to his door now.
“Alfred, I’m not hungry.”
A pause. Just long enough to feel deliberate.
“It’s me, Jay.”
Ah.
That—That made something in him catch.
Your voice, softer than the noise in his head—but louder than the anger, louder than the echo of Bruce’s words still clawing at the inside of his skull. Jason exhaled slowly through his nose, something in his shoulders loosening before he could stop it.
“…Door’s open.”
He didn’t turn right away. But he heard it. The faint creak of the door. The careful, almost hesitant way it moved—like you weren’t sure you were allowed to push it all the way.
That alone told him enough. He glanced over his shoulder. And there you were.
Standing in the doorway like you didn’t quite belong there. Oversized sweater hanging off your frame, sleeves pulled down past your hands like you were trying to make yourself smaller, quieter. Less noticeable. Like if you took up less space, you’d be easier to let in.
Or easier to turn away from.
Jason clicked his tongue softly, looking away again as he shifted on the bed, one knee pulling up, the box still open in front of him.
“What are you doing up here, (Name)?”
You tilted your head, studying him in that quiet way of yours.
“I heard you yelling downstairs earlier.”
Of course you did. This place… It was too big for voices to carry the way they did. Too many empty halls. Too much space.
And yet somehow, it still managed to feel too small when things like that happened. It was suffocating, really.
Jason let out a short breath through his nose, shaking his head slightly. “It’s nothing. Go back to your room, will ya?”
Dismissive. Easy. Like it didn’t matter. Like you didn’t need to be here for it.
Yet, you didn’t move. Didn’t even hesitate. You just… stepped inside. Closed the door quietly behind you. And something about that—about the way you ignored him, about the way you chose to stay anyway—made him look at you properly this time.
There was no flinching. No backing off. Just that same look you always had when things got too loud in this house.
Concern.
Soft. Steady. Unshaken. Like you’d already decided that whatever was going on mattered more than whether you were supposed to be there.
Jason’s brows pulled together slightly, something unreadable flickering across his expression. You stopped a few feet from the bed, your gaze drifting, curious, careful—until it landed on the box.
On the things inside it. Jason followed your line of sight, and—
Shit.
He hadn’t closed it. Hadn’t even thought to. The past sat there, open and exposed in a way he wasn’t used to. In a way he didn’t like.
“What’s this?” you asked softly, stepping just a little closer. Your hand lifted, tentative, like you weren’t sure if you were allowed—but curious enough to try anyway. You reached for one of the pictures. And before you could touch it—
Jason pulled it back. Quick. Instinctive. Like a reflex he didn’t even register until it was already done.
The movement hung there for a second. Too sharp. Too fast. Too telling.
Jason blinked, staring at his own hand like it had moved on its own.
Why did he do that?
It wasn’t like you’d break it. It wasn’t like you’d ruin anything. But something in his chest had tightened the second your fingers got too close.
Jason cleared his throat, looking away, jaw tightening slightly.
“…It’s nothing,” he muttered, quieter this time. Less convincing.
You don’t say a word about that. Just… sit down beside him on the edge of the bed. Not too close. Not too far. Just there. Present in a way that didn’t demand anything from him—but didn’t leave either.
“You’re upset.”
“I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not.”
He shot you a look, sharper than he meant it to be. “You gonna argue with me about my own mood now?”
You shrug, casual in that way that always somehow made things worse before it made them better. “Maybe.”
That almost makes him laugh.
Almost.
It dies somewhere in his throat before it can fully form.
Silence settles again, but it’s different now. Less like a wall. More like something waiting to be acknowledged.
“Can’t I see what those are?” you ask again, softer this time, eyes drifting back to the box like it’s calling to you.
Jason doesn’t answer immediately. That’s the thing. It’s not that he doesn’t hear you. It’s that he does. Those weren’t just pictures. They weren’t just “things.”
They were from before.
Before you. Before Bruce. Before Robin. Before everything that got layered on top of what he used to be until it was almost impossible to see it clearly anymore. They were proof that he hadn’t always been this.
And that was the problem.
Because if you looked too long, if you saw too much, you might start seeing him differently. Or worse—He might start seeing himself differently too.
Jason exhales slowly through his nose, leaning back slightly on his palms, gaze fixed somewhere on the far wall instead of the box.
“…It’s just junk,” he mutters.
But even he hears the lie in it. You don’t move. Just wait. Of course you do.
You always do that. Like patience is just something you naturally have more of than everyone else in this house.
Jason clicks his tongue, jaw tightening.
He could say no. He should say no. Close it. Move it away. End it there. Keep it simple. Keep it locked up the way it always is.
But then he glances at you again. You’re looking at him like the answer matters, but not more than he does. That does something annoying in his chest. Something that makes it harder to keep pretending this is nothing.
“…Ugh,” he exhales finally, dragging a hand through his hair as if that alone can reset his thoughts. “Fine.”
The word lands a little rougher than he intends. He reaches forward and nudges the box toward you.
“You can look,” he adds, quieter, almost begrudging. Then, after a beat—eyes still not quite meeting yours.
“Just stop looking at me like that.”
He doesn’t specify what “that” is. He doesn’t have to. And he absolutely hates how quickly you light up at his answer. Not loud or dramatic. Just this small shift—this soft, immediate focus like the world narrowed down into something you were allowed to care about.
You carefully pull the box closer, fingers brushing over its edges like you’re afraid it might disappear if you move wrong. Jason watches before he can stop himself.
He tells himself it’s just to make sure you don’t drop anything.
That’s all. Nothing more.
Each picture you pull out, you look at like it holds weight. Like it carries something worth preserving. Your expression softens in a way that’s almost too open for this house—too unguarded, too honest.
And for some reason, that steadies something in him. Lowers the noise in his head by a fraction. Jason looks away before he gets caught staring. Clears his throat. Runs a hand through his hair again, slower this time, like he’s trying to settle himself back into something familiar.
“…It’s just Bruce being Bruce,” he says finally, dismissing whatever concern he knows you probably walked in here carrying.
An answer that said the truth, but not the whole of it. It was the safest answer he had. The only one he was allowed to give.
You frowned, pausing as you slowly put down one of the frames, your brows pulling together. “Did he scold you again?”
Jason let out a short, humorless breath that almost passed for a laugh, shaking his head faintly.
Again.
Like it was something routine. Like it was just another entry on a list of things that happened in his life now.
(It was starting to feel like that.)
“Something like that.”
It wasn’t a lie. Just… not the whole truth either.
You shifted on the bed, to a more comfortable position, close enough now that he could see the way your fingers curled into the sleeves of your sweater, like you were holding onto something invisible.
“What happened?”
It was a simple question, but with a dangerous answer. It hung there between you both longer than it should have. For a second, Jason actually considered it.
To just tell you.
To say it out loud. To rip the whole thing open and let you see it the way it actually was. The suits. The masks. The double life. The literal cave that’s been underground for years.
The fact that Bruce wasn’t just your father—he was Batman. That Dick was Nightwing. That he had been Robin during the years he was still in Gotham. That Jason was—
He swallowed. Hard. Because if there was one line in this house that was never meant to be crossed, it was this one.
Bruce had made that clear. Dick had too.
She doesn’t get to know.
So Jason forced the thought down, along with everything else that came with it. He let his shoulders drop like it was nothing. Like it didn’t matter. Like it hadn’t been sitting in his chest all day.
“Nothing you need to worry about.”
That should’ve been enough. For anyone else, it would’ve been. But you weren’t anyone else.
“You always say that.”
“Because it’s always true,” he replied, a little too quickly.
You didn’t back down. Of course you didn’t. Of course the one thing you inherited from your father was his absolute stubbornness when it came to things like this.
And that was the problem. That was always the problem. You were looking at him like you could see straight through every deflection he threw your way. Jason exhaled through his nose, a little sharper this time as he looked away.
“Seriously, (Name). Drop it.”
There it was.
The wall. Not anger. Not really. Just… distance. Necessary distance. He didn’t like this. Not one bit at all.
Didn’t like pushing you away when all you were doing was trying to care. You were the only one in this house who did it so openly, without conditions, without expectations.
And he was shutting you out anyway. Because he had to. Because if he didn’t—
“You’re acting like no one in this house is on your side.”
That stopped him. Completely. Not because it was loud or sharp. But because it was true enough to land somewhere he hadn’t built defenses for.
Jason went still, the words landing somewhere deeper than they should’ve. His jaw tightened as his gaze dropped, his hands clenching slightly against the fabric of his jeans.
“…Yeah,” he admitted quietly, before he could stop himself. “Feels like that sometimes.”
The honesty slipped out, raw and unfiltered.
He hated that it did. Because lately, it had been getting harder to ignore. Harder to pretend he still fully understood where he stood in all of this. Harder to reconcile what he was being told… with what he was seeing.
Bruce’s certainty. The way he drew lines so cleanly, so absolutely—between right and wrong, control and chaos, redemption and irredeemable.
The ones who got chances. The ones who didn’t deserve them. The ones who slipped through the system anyway, wrapped in power and influence and names that made consequences hesitate. Jason’s jaw flexed slightly as the thought tightened in his chest. The ones who—
“But I am.”
Your voice cut through it. Not loud. Not urgent. Just certain.
It pulled him out of the spiral like a hand catching him mid-fall. Jason blinked, looking up at you again—properly this time.
You didn’t hesitate. You just sat there like the answer was obvious, meeting his gaze like it was the simplest thing in the world—like it wasn’t something that was complicated or or had layers of hidden meanings. Like it was just… true.
“I’m on your side, Jay,” you say again, softer this time, but no less steady. “Always.”
Something shifted in his chest. It didn’t fix anything. Didn’t erase the argument, or the words that stuck to him, or the anger that lingered tight under his skin. But it… eased it.
Just a little. Just enough that it didn’t feel like it was going to consume everything.
Jason let out a quiet huff through his nose, glancing away like he was unimpressed, like it didn’t matter as much as it did.
But his voice betrayed him anyway—lower, less sharp than before.
“Yeah? You sure about that?”
You nodded immediately, without a second of hesitation. “Uh-huh.”
He studied you for a moment, then reached out and nudged your shoulder lightly with two fingers.
“Even if someone bribed you with, I don’t know… those stupid Sanrio stuff you like to collect for some reason?”
Your eyes widened instantly, and you gasped like he’d just presented you with the greatest moral dilemma of your life. You tapped a finger against your chin, pretending to think it over very seriously.
“Hmm,” you hummed. “That’s… really tempting, actually.”
Jason stared at you, incredulous. “Unbelievable.”
“It’s a serious offer,” you insist, barely holding back a smile. “You don’t understand the value of what I’m being asked to give up—”
Before you could finish, his hand came down on your head, ruffling your hair roughly.
“Hey—!” you squawked immediately, trying to swat him away, laughter breaking through your protest. “Stop that!”
He didn’t. At least not right away. And for a moment—just a moment—the tension in his chest loosened enough that something like a laugh slipped out of him too. That alone made your expression brighten.
“I’m kidding!” you said quickly, still laughing as he finally let go. “I’m kidding.”
Jason dropped his hand, shaking his head slightly as if you were the most ridiculous thing he’d dealt with all day. Which, honestly, wasn’t far off. You looked up at him again, expression softening.
“Even if they offered me, like… a super rare Pompompuri plush from a Japan-only blind box drop,” you added, more seriously now, “or a limited-run Kuromi Sanrio collab set that sold out instantly—”
“Okay—Now you’re just pushing it.”
“I’m making a point.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, but there was no real edge to it anymore.
You nudged his shoulder this time, gentler than he had been.
“I’d still pick you.”
No hesitation. No embellishment.
Jason didn’t respond right away. Didn’t trust himself to. For a second, he just looked at you—really looked. At the way you stood there so certain, so unwavering, like the world couldn’t convince you otherwise even if it tried. Then he looked away.
“…Even if I were against Bruce?”
The silence that followed shouldn’t have felt this deafening. But it did. It pressed into the space between them, heavy and unspoken, stretching just long enough to make Jason painfully aware of everything he didn’t want to see on your face.
Because that was the thing. He didn’t look. He couldn’t. If he did, he might actually see it—disappointment. Confusion. Maybe even something worse. And that would be worse than anything Bruce ever said to him.
Damnit.
Would you be disappointed in him? For keeping something this big buried? For standing here in front of you, answering questions like this while carrying a whole other life he wasn’t supposed to speak about? For not telling you the truth, even now, even when you were sitting right here looking at him like he was someone you trusted without question?
He didn’t understand it. Still didn’t.
How Bruce and Dick could carry this—this double life, this split truth—and act like the weight of it didn’t matter to you at all. Like it didn’t leave anything behind.
“Well, if it comes down to you and Dad… I’m gonna pick you, of course!”
What?
Jason blinked. Like he hadn’t processed the words properly.
“You don’t have to lie to my face about that, y’know.” He adds, recovering slightly, though his voice still held that disbelieving edge.
“I’m not petty like a certain someone here.”
“Hey—”
You shot back immediately, deadpan at first, before sighing and shaking your head. But you were smiling. Still smiling. Like it was obvious. Like there wasn’t even a version of the world where that answer would be anything else.
“Come on,” you said gently, tilting your head at him. “You know you’re basically the only one in this house who actually spends time with me, right? Why wouldn’t I be on your side?”
Wow.
That hit something. Jason felt it before he could stop it—that small, involuntary lift in his chest. Something warm. Something almost stupidly pleased. For half a second, it was easy. Too easy. But then the guilt followed right behind it.
Sharp. Uninvited. Because that warmth didn’t exist alone. It came attached to everything he wasn’t saying. Everything he was hiding. Everything he was pretending you didn’t deserve to know yet.
The lies. The mask. The nights. The double life. What would happen when you found out?
Not if. When.
Would you still look at him like this? Would you still mean it? Or would it turn into something else entirely?
Disgust. Betrayal. That quiet, devastating realisation that someone you trusted had been standing in front of you as something else the whole time.
He could already imagine it. And worse—He wouldn’t even blame you.
That was the part that made his stomach tighten. Because he knew what it looked like from the outside. He knew what it was. And still—
He couldn’t bring himself to say it. Couldn’t open his mouth and turn everything upside down in one breath.
Pathetic. He should be able to. He was supposed to be your brother. And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to do this one thing.
Maybe it’s because a part of him understood why no one had told you the truth. But it still didn’t change the fact that it felt completely, undeniably wrong to keep something this huge hidden from you.
“…Yeah,” he muttered finally, forcing the thought down, shoving it somewhere it couldn’t breathe. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense, pipsqueak.”
He reached out and ruffled your hair again, rougher than necessary, like he could physically shake the heaviness out of the moment. You let out another indignant sound, swatting at his hand.
It worked. Barely.
Just enough to keep things moving forward. Just enough to pretend. But even as he spoke, even as he acted normal, one thought stayed lodged somewhere deep in his chest.
When you ever found out…. Would you still look at him like that? Or would that be the moment everything finally broke?
So, Jason truly wished that if the day ever came when you learned the truth, he wouldn’t have to be there to face you or the consequences. He didn’t think he’d have the guts to face you after that. He couldn’t even begin to imagine the betrayal you’d feel.
Jason exhaled quietly, pushing it down again.
“Go downstairs,” he said after a moment, withdrawing his hand. “Before Alfred comes looking for you and blames me for distracting you.”
You groaned, but pushed yourself to your feet anyway, heading for the door—only to pause, just for a second.
“Jason?”
He looked over his shoulder. You were smiling again—but softer now. Smaller. Steadier in a way that didn’t need volume to mean anything.
“I’ll always be on your side.”
Why did you have to say it like that?
So certain. So effortless. Like it wasn’t something that could ever change. Like there was nothing else to it?
Jason didn’t respond right away. Couldn’t. So he just nodded, then waved you off like it didn’t matter as much as it did, before turning back to sort through his parents’ belongings.
Jason’s eyes snap open—and immediately, he regrets it.
Everything hits him at once.
The pounding in his skull. The sharp, high-pitched ringing in his ears that refuses to fade. The way his vision swims, blurs, then slowly—too slowly—begins to piece itself back together every time he forces himself to blink.
What the hell.
His body feels like it’s been dragged through hell and back. Limbs heavy. Unresponsive. Like they don’t quite belong to him anymore.
And that memory.
Out of everything.
Out of all the things his brain could’ve pulled up in a moment like this—
That.
His last proper conversation with you.
Before Ethiopia.
Jason’s brow furrows faintly, a quiet, pained exhale leaving him as the fragments settle into place. Why that? Why now?
A low grunt slips past his lips as the rest of it comes rushing back—the unmarked warehouse he went to check, the crates filled with gimmicky weapons and devices, the gas that burst out and dispersed into the air, the way everything had gone sideways faster than he could recover from.
“Hey—Stop moving around so much—”
The voice cuts through the haze. Familiar. Too familiar.
Jason freezes for half a second, his thoughts stuttering.
…No way.
He knows that voice. He’d recognise it anywhere. It’s only then—only now—that he becomes aware of the movement beneath him. Or rather, the fact that he’s the one being moved.
His arm is slung over someone’s shoulders. His weight half-dragged, half-supported as his boots scrape unevenly against the ground.
Jason blinks again, forcing his head to tilt just enough to look. And sure enough.
You.
Of course it’s you.
His stomach twists. What the hell are you doing here? Of all places. Of all situations. This is where he ends up seeing you again? He tries to push himself off you, instinct kicking in before logic can catch up—but the moment he shifts, his body gives out on him.
Nothing. No strength. No balance. No control. It’s like his limbs just… refused to listen. Whatever that gas was, it’s still in his system—still dragging him under, still messing with his head in ways that don’t make sense.
Badly. And he barely even breathed it in.
A frustrated sound escapes him, something between a grunt and a growl.
“…Weak,” he manages, voice rough, slurred at the edges.
Directed at himself. Obviously.
“I’m not weak. You’re just heavy.”
Jason blinks. Once. Twice. His brain lags a second behind the conversation.
What?
What the hell are you—
He turns his head slightly, staring at you like you’ve just said the dumbest thing he’s ever heard. Which, given everything, is saying something. His expression is… frankly ridiculous. Completely unfiltered confusion, bordering on offended disbelief.
You catch it. Of course you do.
And just like that, your own expression shifts—eyes widening slightly as realisation hits.
“Oh wait—you mean you’re weak.” Your breath hitches a little as you adjust his weight.
There’s a beat. A hint of something smug. Something very you—
Jason narrows his eyes slightly, even through the haze.
Yeah. That tone did not go unnoticed.
“Still got a smartass mouth, huh,” he mutters, voice rough, edged just enough to sound like an insult—even if it falls a little short of full bite. “Kinda impressive, considering the situation.”
You huff, clearly ticked off despite the strain in your breathing.
“Oh yeah?” you shoot back, tightening your grip on him. “Well you look like absolute shit right now, so maybe just shut up and deal with it.”
Jason lets out a weak scoff, rolling his eyes even as the motion makes his head throb.
“Look who’s talking.”
There’s a pause. Just long enough for something else to settle in. His gaze drifts back to you, and then his brows pull together.
“What the hell did you do to your hair?”
He says it like it personally offended him. And you nearly choke at that tone.
“Wha—? I just cut it, that’s all.”
Jason squints at it like he’s assessing the damage dealt to it.
“…Yeah?” he mutters. “Well it looks like shit.”
“Fuck you.”
That earns a weak, breathy scoff from him.
“Real original,” he shoots back. “Took you a whole two seconds to come up with that one?”
“Oh, I’ve got more,” you snap, shooting him a glare even as you adjust your footing. “Just waiting for you to get your head out of your ass so you might actually listen for once.”
“Yeah? Might be waiting a while then.”
“God, you’re insufferable.” You scoff, breath hitching slightly as you shift his weight again, your grip tightening instinctively when he starts to slip. The strain is starting to settle in now. Arms aching, shoulders burning. But you don’t drop him. “I don’t even know why I’m helping you right now.”
“And yet, you’re still dragging me through the streets like I’m some drunk you picked up from the streets,” he mutters, his voice rough but laced with that same dry bite. “Think we’ve both made questionable life choices.”
You let out an exasperated noise, shifting his arm higher over your shoulder.
“Maybe if someone here wasn’t built like a damn brick wall—”
“Excuse you,” Jason cuts in, faint offense slipping through despite everything. “That’s all muscle.”
“That’s dead weight right now.”
He huffs out something that almost resembles a laugh, though it comes out strained.
“Keep talking,” he mutters. “See how far you get.”
“Further than you, apparently,” you shoot back. “At least I can walk.”
That actually makes him pause. Not because of the jab itself. He’s heard worse. Said worse. But because you don’t falter after it.
You don’t hesitate. Don’t loosen your grip. Don’t even consider letting him drop, even when it would’ve been easier—more justified—to do exactly that.
You’re still holding him up. Still steady, despite the strain he can feel in the way your arm shifts under his weight. Still here. That’s the part that doesn’t sit right.
His gaze drifts slightly, like he’s trying to focus on anything other than the fact that you’re making this annoyingly difficult for him to brush off.
“…Where’s your helmet, anyway?”
Jason lets out a rough, humorless scoff.
“Got busted up,” he mutters. “Had to use something to get away from the big man himself.”
Right. Of course.
How can you forget the fact that Jason had rigged his helmet with explosives like it was all fun and games? The way he’d wired it like it was just another tool, another exit strategy. Another line he had no problem crossing if it came down to it. You remember looking at him like he’d lost his mind when you found out. Calling him a suicidal maniac hadn’t even felt like an exaggeration at the time.
Your eyes flick back to him now.
“Of course you’d resort to that to escape. Well, look where that got you now? Your head’s busted up now because of your stupid stunt.”
Jason huffs, shifting slightly like the memory itself is annoying him more than the pain.
“That’s nothing.” he says, voice rough. “Just hit my head too hard when my body decided to give up on me and plummet to the ground.”
“So what I’m hearing is that you lost the fight with gravity and then decided that the floor was your next opponent. Truly inspiring.”
That earns you a glare—weak, but still there.
“Oh, shut up.”
“Mm,” you hum, adjusting your grip again as you keep walking. “Noted with thanks.”
Jason’s jaw tightens faintly, something quieter slipping in beneath the irritation, beneath the instinct to snap back and push you away like he always does. Like he should.
Because this—this doesn’t match what he expects. Not from you. Not after everything.
There’s a brief moment of silence before he exhales slowly, forcing himself to focus past the haze.
“Left,” he says suddenly, voice low.
You blink, thrown off by the abruptness. “What?”
“Don’t know where the hell you’re trying to take me in this situation, but there’s a safehouse,” he drawls, forcing the words out a little clearer this time, though it still sounds like it takes effort. “Around the corner. Take a left, then the second alley.”
You hesitate for half a second.
Then nod.
“Got it.”
And just like that, you adjust your grip on him and keep moving. No questions. No hesitation. Just trust. Blind, almost immediate, unthinking trust.
Something Jason can’t believe you still had in him. That sits heavier than anything else right now.
Jason lets his head tilt slightly, his weight sagging a little more into you than he intends, his body giving in where his pride won’t.
He can feel it too—the way you compensate without saying anything. The subtle shift of your stance, the tightening of your grip, the way you steady him without making a point of it.
Like this is natural. Like it’s nothing. Like he’s nothing. Something about that doesn’t sit right. Because he knows better. He knows what he’s said to you. What he’s done. What he’s made clear.
And yet, you’re still here. Still choosing this. Still choosing him.
Jason’s gaze drifts, half-lidded now, the edges of his vision softening as the lingering effects of the gas creep back in, dulling the sharpness of everything around him. But even through that haze, he notices it.
You.
There was something off about you. Different.
Compared to the last time he’d seen you—almost a month ago now—you don’t look the same. Not even close.
Back then, you’d looked like you were barely holding yourself together, like everything was pressing down on you all at once and you were just… enduring it. Forcing yourself forward anyway, stubborn in that quiet, self-destructive way that Jason doesn’t even know when you’d started falling into without even realising it yourself.
But now?
You look… lighter. Like something that used to cling to you, something heavy and suffocating, has finally let go. Like you can breathe again. Like.. the you he remembers from before.
Before you picked up the Batgirl mantle.
And for some reason…. Jason can’t accept that.
He knows he should. Knows he should feel relieved—should be glad you’re not out there anymore, not throwing yourself headfirst into danger for something that was never meant to be yours to carry.
You’re safer like this. Better off. Anyone with half a brain would see that. But the thought that you can just… go back—That you can step away from it all and still be you again.
His chest tightens.
Because he can’t. There’s no going back for him. Not to that.
Not to being your brother the way he was before. Not the version of him that existed before everything that happened to him.
Before the Joker, before the grave, before whatever the hell he became after clawing his way back out of it.
That version of him is gone. Buried somewhere he can’t reach, no matter how hard he tries not to think about it. Because the truth is—
Even if you can stand here and look like yourself again… He can’t stand beside you and be the person you remember.
Not the one who used to ruffle your hair without thinking. Not the one who’d sit with you in the library or your room for hours, letting you ramble about things that didn’t matter just because it made you smile.
Not the one who could look at you without this constant edge under his skin, without the instinct to push, to snap, to keep you at arm’s length before you get too close to something he doesn’t know how to give anymore.
That version of him wouldn’t have said the things he did. Wouldn’t have looked at you like that. Wouldn’t have made you feel like—
Like you had to earn your place beside him.
His jaw tightens faintly, something heavy settling in his chest. Because you can go back. You can still be you. But him? He’s stuck with what’s left.
And no matter how much you look like the sister he remembers—
He knows, deep down, that he’ll never be your brother like that again.
His eyes drift half-shut again, vision blurring at the edges. A quiet, ugly frustration settling in his chest.
Great. Just great.
Even unconscious, even when he’s poisoned half out of his mind—
He’s still a shitty brother.
Still the same problem he’s always been.
Still not being the brother you thought he was.
By the time you finally reach the safehouse, your arms are burning and your legs feel like they might give out at any second, but you push through it anyway, adjusting your grip on Jason one last time before forcing the door open and half-dragging, half-carrying him inside.
The place is exactly what you imagined it to be—small, dimly lit, and barely furnished, more functional than livable, the kind of place meant for disappearing into rather than staying.
You don’t waste time taking it all in yet.
You guide him toward the nearest thing that resembles a couch—if it can even be called that—and carefully lower him onto it, easing his weight down despite the way your arms protest the second you let go.
For a moment, you just stand there, catching your breath, your chest rising and falling as your eyes flick around the room, scanning instinctively, taking in anything useful.
There isn’t much Of course there isn’t.
This was probably a safehouse in name only. Forgotten, half-used, stripped down to the bare minimum of survival rather than comfort. The kind of place that says more about necessity than safety.
Your lips press together faintly before you turn back to him. “So..?”
Jason’s head tilts slightly, his gaze dragging up to meet yours, heavy-lidded but still sharp enough to cut.
“So what.”
Ah. There it was.
Just like that, whatever had existed before—the brief, almost familiar ease from earlier—was gone.
Snuffed out like it had never been there in the first place. And what’s left behind is something you recognise all too well. That same tension. That same suffocating, in-between space that never quite had a name but always made itself known anyway. That strange, fragile middle ground the two of you had been stuck in for longer than you cared to admit.
And the worst part?
You’ve already done this once. Even before you had died and regressed—even before you were dragged back into this point in time—it had been like this.
Not always sharp, not always distant, but never quite settled either. Always something slightly off-centre, like the conversation was missing steps neither of you knew how to find.
But at least then… there had been that brief stretch where it eased. Where it almost felt like it could go back to something normal if neither of you looked too closely at it. The silence hadn’t felt this heavy.
But now?
Now you’re right back at the start. And it feels worse. Like the weight of everything you already know is pressing down on you, forcing you to relive it all over again with no way around it.
Seriously?
You have to go through all of this again?
The same tension. The same distance. The same unresolved, unspoken mess neither of you ever had the guts—or the chance—to properly fix.
Fuck.
Is this why just looking at him now makes your chest feel this tight?
Why your thoughts keep circling back to things you’d rather not remember? That you thought you’d already buried?
Why it still hurts?
Your fingers curl slightly at your sides as the memories surface anyway.
15.
That’s how old you were when Jason did the impossible.
When he came back from the dead—not as Jason, not as the person you knew, the version you’d grown up with—but as Red Hood.
All anger. All violence. All edges sharpened into something you couldn’t recognise, no matter how hard you tried to look past it.
But you did try. Of course you did.
Because that was Jason.
Because you thought if you looked long enough, if you said the right things, if you just reached far enough, maybe there would still be something left of him—the him that you remembered—underneath all of it.
You tried to go after him, tried to understand what happened the last few years that made him this. Tried to understand what happened in those missing years to turn him into something that didn’t feel like a continuation of the boy you once knew.
You thought you could still understand him. Like reaching out would be enough. That you could still reach him the way you used to.
It wasn’t.
That intervention didn’t just end badly. It ended in a way that stuck. In a way that never really left. In a way that forever changed things between you two.
It happened again when Bruce “died”. When Jason had taken up the cowl in the worst possible way when Gotham was thrown into chaos.
Twisted it cowl into something harsher. Something final. Something that didn’t leave space for hesitation or mercy or second chances.
And you tried again. Because apparently you never learned. Because apparently distance meant nothing when it came to him.
You didn’t think you could ever bring yourself to fight Jason. Not really. Not in the way it counted. But you did.
Or at least—you tried to stop him.
Tried to pull him back from whatever direction he was spiralling into this time, even when every instinct screamed at you that this wasn’t going to end the way you wanted it to.
And that only ended just as badly. Maybe even worse.
There had been no resolution. No apology. No understanding.
No clear moment where either of you admitted fault or found understanding or even managed to put words to what had happened without it turning into something worse.
Just silence. Heavy, deliberate silence that neither of you ever broke properly again.
An unspoken agreement to leave it alone. Not talk about it. Not bring it up. Not dig into the things that would only make it worse.
To leave each other alone, to stop pushing. To act like distance was better than whatever came after honesty. To become, in practice, strangers who happened to know too much about each other to ever truly be that.
And somehow, that became… enough. Or at least, something close to it. Something you both settled into without ever really acknowledging it. You didn’t apologise or forgive.
Neither did he.
And because of that, you were now left to deal with this. Again.
Standing in front of him like none of that tension ever got the chance to fade. Like you’ve been dropped back into the part of the story where everything is still raw. Still unresolved. Still hanging there, waiting to be dealt with. And you’re the only one who knows how it ends.
Your jaw tightens faintly as you look at him.
“You done staring?”
Jason’s voice cuts through the silence, rough and edged, dragging you out of your thoughts whether you wanted it to or not.
There’s something deliberate in it. Sharp. Defensive. Like he’s already decided what this is going to be before you even say anything. You don’t answer immediately.
But he doesn’t wait.
“Go.” he’s shifting slightly where he sits, like he’s trying to push himself up despite the way his body clearly refuses to cooperate. “I’ve got it from here.”
The words would almost be convincing if not for the way his hand tightens against the edge of the couch. Or the way his shoulders tense just a little too much for someone who supposedly has everything under control.
You don’t move. Jason notices. His gaze sharpens, irritation flickering across his expression as he looks at you properly now.
“I said you can go,” he repeats, more pointed this time. “Didn’t think I had to say it twice.”
There it is.
That edge. That push. The one meant to keep you at a distance. The one he always falls back on when things get even remotely close to something real. And it still—
It still hurts.
More than it should. More than you want it to.
Because no matter how many times you tell yourself you’re used to it, that it doesn’t matter, that this is just how he is now—
It still lands. Still presses into something raw in your chest, something that never quite healed the first time. For a second, you almost let it get to you.
Almost.
Then you exhale quietly. And step forward anyway. Jason’s expression darkens immediately.
“Are you deaf or just—”
His words cut off the moment your hand comes up and grips his jaw, firm enough to stop him mid-sentence as you tilt his face toward the light.
“Hold still.”
He freezes for half a second, clearly caught off guard. Then immediately tries to pull back.
“Hey—get off—”
His hand comes up to grab your wrist, to push you away, but there’s no strength behind it. No follow-through. It falters halfway, fingers tightening briefly before loosening again like even that takes too much effort.
You don’t let go. Don’t even acknowledge it.
Your focus is already elsewhere, your gaze sharpening as you study him properly now, thumb pressing lightly against his cheek to keep his head steady.
“Pupils are still dilated,” you murmur, tilting his face slightly to catch the light better. “Reaction’s slow.”
Jason huffs, something annoyed and frustrated slipping through as he glares at you, even if the effect is dulled by the way his eyelids threaten to droop.
“Didn’t realise you got promoted to doctor. Where’s the PhD?”
“Skin’s clammy,” you continue over him, ignoring the comment entirely, your fingers brushing briefly against his temple before moving away. “Sweating more than normal. Coordination’s shot.”
“Yeah, no shit. Kinda figured that out when I couldn’t stand—”
“Heart rate’s elevated too,” you add, quieter this time, more to yourself than to him.
You pause. Your brows knit together as you run through possibilities, your mind moving faster than your body probably should be allowed to after everything.
Your grip doesn’t loosen. Doesn’t waver.
And for a second—just a second—there’s something else there, something that slips through the cracks of everything you’re trying to keep contained.
Something he almost notices.
Almost.
But then your expression shifts again, shutters sliding back into place as quickly as they slipped.
“…Not Ivy’s pollen,” you mutter, almost absently, your grip loosening just slightly as you lean back a fraction to take him in again. “You’d be a lot worse right now if it was. Disoriented in a different way. More… suggestible.”
Jason makes a face at that. “Don’t—”
“And it’s not Scarecrow’s toxin,” you continue, cutting him off again, your gaze sharpening as you study his expression, watching for signs that aren’t there. “You’d be hallucinating by now. Or at least showing stronger psychological symptoms.”
You pause. Look at him again. Really look this time. Then exhale, just slightly.
“…Whatever it is, you didn’t inhale enough for it to fully hit,” you conclude, quieter now, more certain. “It’s still in your system, but it’s not as bad as it could’ve been.”
Jason huffs, slumping back further into the couch like he’s been inconvenienced more than anything else.
“Great,” he mutters. “Glad to hear I’m only partially screwed.”
You don’t dignify that with a response. Just kept your focus where it needs to be. And ignore the way his glare digs under your skin, sharper than anything he’s said so far.
Ignore the way it still hurts. Ignore the part of you that remembers when he didn’t look at you like that at all.
You turn away instead, already scanning the room again, your movements quicker now, more purposeful.
It doesn’t take long. Of course it doesn’t. A place like this was always going to have something.
You spot the first aid kit tucked away in a cabinet and move toward it immediately, pulling it out and setting it down nearby as you start sorting through what’s inside.
Behind you, you can feel his gaze. Or maybe you just imagine it. Either way, when you come back over, Jason’s already trying to push himself up slightly, like he’s about to brush you off before you can even start.
Your jaw tightens slightly as you step back toward him. “Don’t—”
“Didn’t I already tell you to fuck off?” he cuts in before you can say anything, voice rough, sharper now, like he’s forcing it to land harder than his body can back up. “I can handle my own shit.”
His hand comes up and swats your arm away when you reach for him.
It’s not strong. Not really. But the intent is there. Clear as anything. Something in you stills for half a second, before snapping.
“Yeah? You call this handling it?”
He lets out a dry, humorless laugh.
“I’m still breathing, aren’t I?”
“Barely,” you fire back. “And last I checked, that wasn’t exactly a high standard.”
His eyes narrow. “Funny. Didn’t realise I asked for commentary.”
“Well, someone has to say it,” you snap, crossing your arms briefly before dropping them again, too keyed up to stay still. “Because clearly you’re doing a shit job of it yourself.”
His expression hardens at that, something colder slipping into his gaze.
“Right. Because you’ve always known what’s best, haven’t you?” he shoots back. “Worked out real well for you so far.”
That hits.
You feel it. But you don’t let it show.
“Better than whatever the hell this is,” you retort, gesturing toward him. “You can barely sit upright, Jason.”
“And yet,” he bites out, “I’m still managing without your help.”
You let out a sharp, disbelieving breath.
“Are you hearing yourself right now?”
“Are you?” he shoots back immediately. “Because last I checked, I didn’t ask you to be here.”
That one—That one lands deeper than the rest. But you push through it anyway.
“Yeah?” you say, your voice dropping, tightening. “And last I checked, you weren’t exactly in a position to make that call.”
His jaw clenches.
“Then leave,” he snaps. “Since you’ve done your little check-up and satisfied whatever this is—”
“I’m not leaving,” you cut in, just as sharp.
Silence. It hangs there for a second. Tense. Heavy. Unmoving.
Jason stares at you, something unreadable flickering behind the irritation.
“You always were stubborn,” he mutters, quieter now, but no less biting. “Just like Bruce himself. You really are his daughter, huh?”
Something in you stills. Not outwardly. Not enough for him to see. But internally—something tightens, sharp and immediate, like a nerve struck too precisely.
You let out a short, humorless breath.
“And what the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Jason scoffs, like you’re being deliberately obtuse, like the answer is so obvious it’s almost irritating that you’d ask.
“You know exactly what I mean,” he says, shifting slightly despite the way his body still refuses to fully cooperate. “Well, at least unlike him, you actually know when to quit when you’re not needed.”
The words land heavier than they should. For a second, your mind almost rejects them outright. Like it misheard. Like it has to have misheard.
Surely—
Surely that’s not what he meant.
No way he would say something like that and mean it.
Right?
Your thoughts trip over themselves, scrambling for something—anything—that makes it less… final. Less deliberate. Less him.
Because if that’s really what he thinks—
If that’s really how he sees you—
Then what does that say about everything that came before?
About every time you went out as Batgirl, every time you tried to keep up with everything else. Every mistake you learned from and every time you got back up anyway, even when it would’ve been easier not to.
Every moment you pushed yourself harder, faster, further—trying to keep up, trying to be enough in a space that was never built for you to grow gently in.
Because all this while, you thought he’d be proud of you, for stepping up and doing this. That if you were able to become half the hero like everyone else was, you’d—
No.
You shut that down before it can spiral any further. You don’t let yourself go there. Not yet.
Instead, you force your breathing to even out, slow and controlled, even as something tight coils in your chest, pressing harder with every passing second.
“…What are you trying to say, Jason?” you ask, slower this time, more careful, like if you keep your tone even, you can keep whatever this is from spiraling further than it already has.
But the look on his face—that steady, unflinching, almost coldly certain look—tells you everything you need to know.
He meant it. Every word of it.
“I’m saying,” he starts, voice flattening into something colder, more deliberate, “that the best decision you ever made was quitting being Batgirl.”
The air in the room shifts. Or maybe it’s just you. Because suddenly, everything feels—Closer. Tighter.
Like the walls have inched inward without you noticing, pressing in just enough to make it harder to breathe.
Your lungs don’t quite catch up in time.
Your breath stutters before you can stop it.
“…Excuse me?”
The words barely sounds like your own.
But Jason doesn’t hesitate. Doesn’t soften. Doesn’t reconsider what he just said.
“Everyone damn near knew you couldn’t hold your weight, especially in a city like this.”
For a moment, all you can do is stare at him.
Because there’s no way—
No way he actually believes that. No way he’s been thinking this all along.
“…Couldn’t hold my weight?” you repeat slowly, the disbelief slipping through despite everything you’re doing to keep it contained. “I’ve been out here for years, Jason. I’ve been protecting Gotham—with everyone else—”
“Yeah,” he cuts in, a humorless edge creeping into his tone. “And how’d that go for you?”
Your chest tightens. Not all at once, but steadily. Like something pressing in from the inside, leaving less and less room to breathe the longer it lingers.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Jason leans back slightly, though the movement is stiff, controlled, like even now he refuses to show just how much it costs him.
“It means,” he says, “you were busy being a liability for everyone else who can actually get shit done.”
The words are simple. But they hit like something heavier.
“Always reacting instead of thinking. Always chasing leads that didn’t pan out. Always needing someone else to step in before things got out of hand.”
“That’s not—” you start, but your voice falters, just slightly. “I was not a liability. I could hold down my own shit.”
Jason notices. Of course he does.
“You think they didn’t notice?” he presses, voice sharpening. “You think they didn’t have to adjust for you? Gordon cleaning up the aftermath when things went sideways. Dickhead stepping in mid-mission when you pushed too far. Tim rerouting your intel because you couldn’t tell when to pull back.”
Each example lands harder than the last. Not because they’re entirely true. But because they’re not entirely false either.
And that’s what makes it worse.
“Those were just mistakes,” you snap, the words coming out faster now, more defensive than you intend. “I wasn’t fully trained like you were. I didn’t—”
“And that’s exactly the problem,” he cuts in sharply.
“You weren’t built for this.” Jason says, quieter now, but somehow even more brutal for it.
“You never were. So stop pretending that you ever were, even for a moment.”
Something in your chest fractures at that. Like something internal giving way under pressure it’s been holding for too long.
“…You don’t get to say that,” you manage, your voice tightening despite your best effort to keep it steady.
“I don’t?” he challenges instantly, eyes locking onto yours. “Because from where I’m standing, it looked like everyone else had to compensate for you just to keep things from falling apart.”
“That’s not true,” you say again, but it comes out thinner this time, strained. What the hell did he know about keeping things from falling apart?
What does he even know about trying to keep everything together despite everything never quite holding, no matter how hard you tried?
Jason doesn’t give you time to settle into that thought.
“You were the weak link,” he continues, blunt and unrelenting. “The one they had to keep an eye on. The one no one couldn’t fully rely on when things got bad.”
Your hands curl into fists at your sides before you even realise you’re doing it.
“That’s not what it was,” you say, louder now, the control you’ve been clinging to starting to slip. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. You weren’t even there. You don’t know what it was like after you were gone—”
“And yet you stepped right into the mess, didn’t you?” he shoots back. “Put on the suit like it was yours to take.”
“It wasn’t like that—”
“Then what was it?” he demands, his voice cutting straight through yours. “Because for what it’s worth, you picked up whatever you could and ran with it. Called whatever shit you did good enough.”
That hits somewhere deeper.
You didn’t just pick up the mantle just to fill the gap. It wasn’t supposed to be just that.
“Good enough?” you echo, your voice cracking around the edges now despite your effort to hold it steady. “You think that’s what it was? That I was trying to look for validation in places I should’ve never touched in the first place?”
“You’re saying you weren’t?” Jason shoots back, a scoff slipping through like he’s already decided the answer for you. Like nothing you say is going to change it.
No.
That wasn’t it. It couldn’t be.
Because it was more than that—it had to be more than that. It wasn’t just about proving something or chasing approval. It was about staying, about doing something, about not letting everything fall apart when no one else seemed to—
…Right?
Jason exhales sharply, shaking his head slightly, like he’s already tired of the argument, like your silence just proves his point.
“You probably kept showing up anyway and told yourself, ‘this is fine, this is enough.’”
His gaze locks onto yours.
“No matter how many times it clearly wasn’t.”
Your breath catches. Your vision blurs for a second. Not from anything physical. From the sheer weight of it.
“I tried,” you say, quieter now, but no less raw. “I did everything I could to—”
“Yeah,” he interrupts again. “That’s the problem. You tried.”
The implication sits there.
Ugly. Unspoken. Clear.
“You tried,” he repeats, like the word itself bothers him. “No one asked you to, but you did.”
“Then what the hell was I supposed to do?” you cut in, the question breaking out of you before you can stop it.
Jason frowns, something sharper surfacing beneath the exhaustion, his voice rough as he snaps back, “Do nothing. Just—live your life like a normal kid your age should.”
“Normal?” you echo, the word cracking as something in you finally gives way. “And be the naive, clueless girl who had no idea what the hell was going on right under her nose? Just—what? Smile and pretend everything was fine while all of you were out there living double lives behind my back?”
Your fists tighten at your sides, nails biting into your palms hard enough to ground you.
“Be blissfully ignorant while my own family kept lying to me?”
“At least you wouldn’t have been wrecking your life,” he shoots back immediately, jaw tightening. “Throwing yourself into shit you were never ready for just because you thought it meant something.”
“Goddamnit, Jason—!” Your voice breaks louder now, sharper, edged with something you can’t hold back anymore. “I didn’t become Batgirl because of some righteous cause or whatever the hell you think it was!”
“Oh yeah?” he fires back, eyes narrowing despite the haze of the toxin still dragging at him. “Then enlighten me. Why did you? Not for the glory? Not for the validation? Then what for?”
The words hang there. For half a second, you almost don’t say it. Almost swallow it down like everything else. But you don’t.
“Because I thought you’d be proud of me.”
Everything stills. Not gradually. All at once. Like the air itself has been pulled tight between you.
Jason doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. And somehow, that’s worse.
Because the look on his face—
It’s unreadable.
Flat in a way that feels wrong. Like whatever’s behind it isn’t something you’re meant to see.
“…What the fuck are you talking about?”
Jason’s voice comes out rough—low, strained, threaded with something sharp that doesn’t quite settle into anger, but isn’t anything close to calm either.
For a second, your resolve wavers under it. Under him. The weight of his stare alone feels enough to make you second-guess everything you were so sure about just moments ago. But if you back down now—
If you take it back, soften it, pretend you didn’t mean it, then he wins.
Then everything he’s been saying about you—about this—stands uncontested.
So you force yourself to stay where you are. Force the words out, even if they don’t come out as steady as you want them to.
“I thought…” Your voice dips, quieter now, your gaze dropping to the floor because you can’t quite hold his anymore. “I thought if I became a hero like you, I’d be… honouring what you did.”
The admission sits there. Bare. Unprotected. And for a moment, there’s nothing.
Just silence. But not the empty kind. The kind that presses in from all sides, thick and suffocating, like the room itself is holding its breath.
It stretches. Too long. Too heavy. Until you can’t take it anymore. But when you finally look up, you immediately wished you hadn’t.
Because the look on Jason’s face—
It’s not confusion. Not disbelief.
It’s fury.
Raw. Immediate. Unfiltered in a way you don’t think you’ve ever seen directed at you before.
“You think I’d be fucking honoured?” he snaps, voice rising despite the strain in it, something volatile cracking through. “That you’re throwing yourself into Gotham’s gutter and tearing yourself apart in the process?”
Each word hits harder than the last.
“You think that’s what I wanted for you?” he continues, harsher now, like he can’t stop once he’s started. “That I’d be proud of you for that?”
He lets out a sharp, disbelieving laugh.
“Bullshit,” he bites out. “You know me better than that.”
“Do I?”
The words slip out before you can catch them.
Jason’s glare sharpens instantly, something dangerous settling behind it—but you don’t stop. You can’t.
Because if you do, if you hesitate now, then everything he’s said just… stands. Like it’s the only version of the truth that matters.
“I mean, I thought I knew you,” you continue, forcing the words out even as your chest tightens. “I tried to believe I still did. But seriously—do you expect me to stand here and pretend you’re the same Jason I grew up with?”
Your voice wavers, just slightly.
“After everything?”
His jaw tightens.
For a moment, he says nothing. And somehow, that silence feels worse than anything he’s thrown at you so far. But then, a short, hollow breath leaves him.
“So that’s it, huh?” he mutters, something jagged threading through his voice. “You look at me and all you see is what?”
He lets out a short, humorless breath, shaking his head faintly.
“A monster?” he says flatly, like the word doesn’t even belong to him anymore—like it’s already been decided. “Some fucked-up thing wearing the face of the boy you used to know?”
Your expression twists instantly. Alarm, disbelief, something close to panic flashing across your face as you step forward without thinking.
“What?! No—Jason, that’s not what I—”
“Don’t try to dress it up like it’s anything else. It’s exactly that, isn’t it?” Jason cuts you off, not letting you finish.
You falter. Because he doesn’t stop. Doesn’t give you the space to correct it. To fix it. To explain what you actually meant.
“Don’t lie about it. Not now.”
His gaze locks onto yours, unyielding.
“Because I get it,” he continues, voice rough, but steady in a way that feels wrong. “I know exactly what I look like from your side.”
There’s no anger in it. No heat. Just something colder. Something resigned.
“You had this version of me in your head,” he goes on. “The one that died. The one worth missing. Grieving.”
Your chest tightens.
“Jason—”
“And then I come back,” he keeps going, like you didn’t speak at all. “And I don’t resemble him. Not even close.”
His lip curls faintly.
“Just this—” he gestures vaguely to himself, like even he doesn’t have the right word for it. “Violent, fucked-up replacement that crawled its way back and decided it still had a place here, right?”
Your breath catches.
“That’s not—”
“And I’m guessing that the person you thought me out to be didn’t last very long, did it?” he cuts in, voice rougher than ever. “The second you found out about the masks. The suits. What we actually do. What everyone kept from you.”
His gaze sharpens, boring into you.
“Bet that shattered real quick.”
You shake your head, already trying to push back. But he doesn’t let you.
“Because it wasn’t some tragic accident anymore, right?” he continues, harsher now. “Not some kid in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
His jaw tightens so sharply you can see the muscle ticking beneath his skin, a faint, restless pulse that betrays everything he’s trying to keep buried.
“Just me. Being reckless. Stupid. Getting myself killed because I thought I could handle shit all on my own.”
Each word lands heavier than the last.
“And that probably made it easier for you,” he adds, quieter—but worse for it. “Easier to let go. Easier to stop caring. Easier to stop missing the kid who wasn’t even worth half of what you made him out to be.”
“I didn’t—”
“Didn’t what?” he cuts in again, more forceful now. “Didn’t realise you were grieving someone who didn’t even exist the way you thought he did?”
“That’s not true—” you try again, voice breaking through, desperate to cut him off—but he barrels right over you.
“So what did you do?” he presses, relentless. “You moved on. Put on the suit.”
Your stomach drops.
“Tried to prove you’re not like that kid,” he continues, something almost bitter slipping through now. “That you can do it better.”
His eyes narrow slightly.
“Become something he couldn’t be.”
A beat.
“Mock him for doing something reckless.”
Your hands tremble at your sides.
“And in the process,” he finishes, voice low, cutting, “you turn into someone better than him.”
The words hang there. Heavy. Wrong.
And for a second, you can’t even process it.
Because what the hell is he even saying?
Your mind stumbles over it, trying to make sense of something that feels so completely, fundamentally off.
Mock him?
Become better than him?
Is that seriously what he thinks?
Is that what he’s been thinking this whole time?
Your chest tightens, something sharp and disbelieving clawing its way up. Because that’s not what it was. Not even close.
And the fact that he thinks that—
That he could twist everything you did, everything you went through, into that—
It makes something in you recoil.
Like you’re hearing a version of your own story that doesn’t belong to you. Like he’s taken it, stripped it down, and rebuilt it into something unrecognisable.
Your voice doesn’t come out at first. Because for a moment, you’re just staring at him. Trying to figure out when it got this bad. When he started seeing you like this. When he decided this was all you were.
“…You really believe that?” you manage finally, quieter now—but unsteady in a way that gives you away anyway.
Jason lets out a scoff that almost turns into a laugh, but there’s nothing amused about it.
“What else is there to believe?” he shoots back, voice roughening again. “Realising I wasn’t the boy you thought I was must’ve made it easier to stop grieving, right?”
“Stop grieving? Jason—”
“Because I lied to you for years,” he cuts you off, each word sharper than the last. “Pretending to be someone I wasn’t. Acting like I was—what? A brother you could actually trust? Someone you could stand beside no matter what?”
Your fingers curl into your palms. Hard.
Stop.
That thought hits you like a reflex.
Stop. This is wrong. All of it is wrong.
That’s not what happened.
Not in your head. Not in your memories. Not once did it ever feel like that.
But Jason doesn’t stop long enough for you to say it.
“Well,” he adds, voice dripping with something bitter and deliberate, “sorry to disappoint you, pipsqueak.”
The nickname lands wrong this time. Not soft. Not familiar. Weaponised.
Like he’s trying to remind you exactly where you stand. Like he’s drawing a line—and deciding, all on his own, that you don’t get to cross it.
He exhales through his nose, shaking his head slightly.
“But don’t bother clinging to your little version of me,” he continues, colder now, more controlled in a way that somehow feels worse. “Those pathetic images you built up in your head—don’t try to fix me into them.”
Your face goes still—too still—expression smoothing out into something unreadable, something that gives him nothing to latch onto.
For a second, it almost looks like you’ve shut down. And Jason notices. Of course he does. He always does.
“…What, you suddenly go mute or something?” he presses, pushing again, voice edged with irritation, with something almost restless beneath it. “Say somethi—”
Thwack.
The sound cuts him off clean. Sharp. Immediate.
You don’t even register moving until it’s already done.
Jason’s head snaps to the side, the force of it enough to send him tipping off the makeshift couch entirely, his already weakened body unable to catch himself as he hits the ground with a rough thud.
For a second, everything goes quiet.
“What the fuck, (Name)—??”
His hand comes up to his cheek, pressing against the point of impact, eyes snapping back to you in disbelief.
Your knuckles throb.
A deep, burning ache settling in almost instantly, skin already bruising beneath the surface.
But you don’t care. Not about that. Not right now.
Your chest rises and falls unevenly, something sharp and furious threading through every breath as you look down at him.
“Don’t you dare,” you say, voice tight, shaking just enough to betray what’s underneath, “assume shit about what I’ve been through and why I’ve been trying to do what I did all this time.”
Your hands curl tighter at your sides, ignoring the sting.
“You don’t want me clinging onto pathetic images I made up about you?” you say, the words coming out sharper now, steadier the longer you speak. “Fine. Then don’t fucking do the same thing to me. Don’t stand there and act like you know what I’ve been through.”
For once, Jason doesn’t interrupt.
Doesn’t scoff. Doesn’t cut in. Doesn’t twist your words before you can finish them. He just… stays quiet. And it throws you off more than anything else he’s said so far. Even so, you take it for what it is.
An opening.
Because if you stop now, if you let that silence swallow this up the way it always has before, then nothing changes, and everything he said about you just lingers there, unchallenged, like it’s the only version of the truth that matters.
“I’m not going to stand here and pretend we’re the same people we were a few years ago,” you continue, your voice quieter now, but far more grounded. “We’re not. Not even close.”
Your arms fold tightly across yourself, not defensive—just… holding something in place, but even that doesn’t last. They fall back to your sides, as if even that small comfort isn’t something you’re allowed to have.
“I know you’re never going to be the Jason I grew up with again,” you admit, the words heavier than you expected them to be. “I’ve known that for a long time now, from the moment you came back and looked at me like I was just another person in your way.”
There’s a pause, brief but enough for the memory to surface, uninvited and unwelcome.
“But don’t you dare think I’m still that same 12 year old girl either,” you add, lifting your gaze to meet his properly this time, something firm settling behind your eyes. “The one who didn’t know anything. The one who just… stood there and believed whatever she was told because she didn’t know any better.”
The room feels too small. Too quiet.
Every shift of movement feels louder than it should—the uneven rhythm of both your breathing, the way your fingers curl and uncurl like you’re grounding yourself in something real.
“We can’t go back to what we were,” you say, more evenly now. “And honestly?”
Your jaw tightens faintly.
“I don’t want to.”
Because wanting that would mean pretending none of it happened. Pretending it didn’t hurt the way it did. Pretending you didn’t have to rebuild your entire understanding of the people you loved from the ground up.
“It messed me up,” you admit, the honesty slipping out before you can stop it. “Realising that everything I thought I knew about my own family was barely even the surface.”
You let out a small, humorless breath, your gaze dropping briefly before you force it back up again.
“And the worst part?” you add, something bitter threading through it. “I didn’t even find out from any of you. I had to find out from Tim—who was practically a stranger back then. Someone who wasn’t even apart of all this.”
You see the shift in Jason then, the way his shoulders tense slightly like he’s about to say something, like he’s ready to cut in and redirect the conversation before it gets any further.
But this time, you don’t let him.
“You were the only one on my side in that house. So what the hell did you think happened when you died?”
Your hands clench.
“You think I just went back to living my life like normal?” you demand. “Like nothing changed? Like I just… moved on?”
A harsh breath leaves you.
“Fuck no.”
Your voice cracks—and you don’t bother fixing it.
“I grieved you. Every single day.”
Your gaze drops for a second, like the memory alone is enough to pull you under.
“I went to your grave,” you say, slower. “I sat there for hours sometimes. Talking. Waiting. Like you’d somehow come back if I stayed long enough. Stupid, right?”
Your throat tightens.
“I mourned you,” you add, more firmly. “So don’t—don’t you dare sit there and tell me I didn’t. That I stopped caring. That I didn’t miss you.”
Silence. This time, it lands differently. You look back up just in time to catch it.
The shift in his expression. Subtle, but there. His mouth parts slightly, like he’s about to say something—then closes again. And something about that earns a hollow scoff from you.
“I’ve thought about it so many times,” you go on, quieter now, but no less intense. “What I’d say if I ever got the chance to confront you.”
You let out a quiet sigh, your fingers slowly curling back into fists.
“I wanted to ask you why,” you admit. “Why you—of all people—kept something like that from me.”
Your gaze locks onto his.
“You were the one I trusted the most,” you say. “The one I thought would always be on my side, no matter what.”
Your voice dips.
“And you still chose to keep me in the dark.”
That gets a reaction. A real one.
Jason shifts, something sharp flashing across his face—something defensive, something immediate—like he needs to push back before anything you said has the chance to settle.
“And if I did tell you, what then?” he shoots back, voice rough, strained at the edges. “You think that would’ve changed anything? You’d still have tried to throw yourself into this mess. Into the exact thing that—”
“I never wanted to be Batgirl in the first place, damnit!”
Your voice cuts clean through his, louder than anything you’ve said so far, the force of it catching even you off guard. For a second, the room feels like it stills around it. You don’t stop.
“I didn’t grow up dreaming about putting on a suit or running around Gotham trying to play hero,” you continue, your chest rising and falling unevenly now, the words coming faster, more raw. “I didn’t want any of this.”
Your hands clench at your sides.
“I only took up the mantle because that stupid, naive girl who had no one left to lean on thought it was the only way to hold herself together,” you say, your voice tightening despite your effort to keep it steady. “The only way to make sense of everything that fell apart.”
A breath—shaky, uneven.
“The only way to feel like I still had some control,” you add, quieter now. “Some purpose. Some… connection to something that hadn’t completely disappeared.”
Your gaze lifts back to his, something unguarded flickering through it now.
“It wasn’t about proving anything,” you say. “And it sure as hell wasn’t about replacing you.”
Because that thought—that very idea—still feels wrong even now.
“It was the only thing I had left that felt even remotely close to… you,” you admit, softer this time, like the words cost you something to say out loud.
A beat passes.
“And yeah,” you add, your voice steadier now, even if your chest still feels too tight, “maybe it was stupid.”
Your jaw tightens faintly.
“But don’t stand there and twist it into something it was never meant to be.”
The air between you goes still. Not empty—just heavy, like everything you’ve said has settled into it, pressing down in a way that makes it harder to stay where you are.
And suddenly, you can’t look at him anymore.
You turn on your heel, the movement sharper than intended, more instinct than decision, like distance—any distance at all—might be enough to keep everything from spilling further out of your control.
Because that wasn’t supposed to happen. Not like that.
You hadn’t meant for it to come out so raw, so unguarded, stripped of all the careful restraint you’ve spent years building. It didn’t feel like it was just your 16 year-old self standing there, reacting, struggling to keep up with everything being thrown at her.
No.
It felt like you. The you right now.
And that’s what makes it feel so wrong. Because you weren’t supposed to say that. Not here. Not now.
Your breathing feels uneven as you stare ahead, unfocused, your thoughts still trying to catch up to the weight of everything you just admitted out loud whilst trying to get as far away from the safehouse as you could.
Slowly, your gaze drops.
Your hand comes into view, and only then do you properly register the dull, persistent ache pulsing through your knuckles.
The skin is already bruising, discolored beneath the surface, the impact from the punch earlier settling in now that the rush of adrenaline has started to wear off.
You flex your fingers experimentally, wincing slightly as the movement pulls at the soreness.
“…Seriously,” you mutter under your breath, your voice quieter now, edged with something dry and almost disbelieving despite everything. “What the hell is he even made of?”
A tear slips free before you can stop it.
so…. thoughts? lowkenuinely think i yapped too much with this ngl but… 🤕 if i made mistakes in this then ggs 💀 | check out this peak art if you haven’t
꒰ Damian decided to pay Jason a visit & notice how his body got softer after getting a girlfriend! ꒱
Damian didn’t usually visit his brothers of his own free will. Most of the time, he only stopped by the apartment to grab a quick snack or pick up some accessory that might be useful to him.
But, surprisingly, on that day—on that perfect day—he had decided to be an inconvenience to Todd, simply because he had nothing better to do.
You were in the kitchen, finishing plating the dessert that would accompany one of your movie nights with Jason.
Used to your boyfriend’s entrances and exits through the window and balcony, you didn’t startle when you heard one of them being opened, continuing to hum absentmindedly.
It was only when you turned to wash your hands that you remembered a small detail—Jason was in the shower.
The humming slowly died in your throat.
You dried your hands calmly—much calmer than you actually felt—and turned your head toward the living room, just enough to peek through the doorway.
And there he was, sitting on the couch like he owned the place, legs crossed as he ate popcorn. He chewed slowly, eyes focused on the turned-off television, as if he were waiting for something to start.
He stopped the moment he noticed you.
You stopped the moment you noticed him.
For a long second, neither of you moved.
His green eyes narrowed slightly, calculating, suspicious. “…You are not Todd.”
You blinked once.
“No…” you answered slowly. “And you are definitely not Jay either.”
Jason appeared in the hallway, hair dripping, but already wearing sweatpants. “You started it without me? I told ya I wanted to watch the opening too—”
He stopped mid-sentence, falling silent, his mouth parting in shock—maybe at the scene? At your calmness with the intruder? Or at the intruder’s sheer audacity?
“Just what I needed,” Jason growled, voice sharp with irritation. “Why the hell are you in my apartment?”
Damian didn’t answer immediately. Instead, chewing calmly. He simply shrugged—after all, how was he supposed to explain that he had only come to check if he was still alive? It had been a whole month since he last saw him. But he wasn’t worried!
“That’s mine—Damian, you should be at home. Your home.” Jason sighed, running a hand down his face. “Get off my couch. And stop eating my food.”
Damian ignored him completely. He leaned further back into the cushions, posture relaxed in a way that made Jason’s eye twitch. Then his gaze shifted slowly toward Jason.
“You look… fuller. Softer,” the younger one commented, his gaze drifting briefly toward you, who watched the argument in silence, before quickly returning to his brother.
Damian tilted his head to the side, as if evaluating a painting.
“Have you reduced your training frequency,” he continued, his voice strangely neutral, not teasing, just observational, “or simply increased your intake of nutritionally void food?”
“Did you just call me fat?”
“…No,” he replied, but then paused to think for a few seconds. “Did I? I merely commented on your body fat—“
Jason crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow.
“…Whatever,” he continued, tone quieter now, more thoughtful than before. “You no longer smell like cheap takeout grease and smoke. That is an improvement.”
“…That would be because he finally eats real food now,” you cut in, smiling, proud of your contribution to your boyfriend’s health.
Jason shot you a look over his shoulder, a little wounded that you had indirectly agreed with the little demon.
Damian reached out to grab more popcorn, but Jason slapped his hand away.
“Stop. Eating. My. Food. Okay. Great. Family bonding moment over.” Jason clapped his hands once, sharp and final. “You’ve seen me. Now out. Door. Window. Vent. I don’t care. Pick one.”
Damian’s attention snapped back to you, still ignoring his brother. He straightened slightly where he sat, gaze narrowing with renewed interest.
“You prepare the food?” he asked.
You nodded once. “Most of it.” You smiled. “Do you want to try the dessert?”
“…Dessert?” he repeated.
“I made chocolate cake,” you added casually. “With ganache.”
Damian’s eyes narrowed again. “…Homemade?” he asked.
“Yes.”
You disappeared into the kitchen before your boyfriend could protest.
Jason took a deep breath and dropped onto the couch, far too tired to argue any further. When the younger one opened his mouth to speak, he cut him off immediately.
“Not one more question,” Jason muttered. “Eat in silence.”
𐔌՞. .՞𐦯 - whereas, you were expected to quit after Damian Wayne’s first vicious insult, but fueled by spite you stayed— only to end up hopelessly attracted to the despicable man. You decided to strut into work in stockings and a miniskirt, but he frustratingly refuses to notice. Inspired by ‘miniskirt’ - aoa
cw: no smut just fluff, no y/n mentioned (you will absolutely never catch me using y/n), bad first impressions, enemies(?) to lovers, comedy/humor, bad at feelings, slightly in denial with feelings, happy ending, reader is sick of damian, no angst, and a makeout session.
wc: 18.1k. | part 2
You don’t really remember how you ended up getting the job.
You just knew the economy is going to shit, much to your dismay. You were an adult and life as an adult isn’t what it’s cracked up to be, especially when you’re in a world that has heroes, vigilantes, and villains that pop a perc and run around causing havoc.
Just like many other people in the country, you’re applying to several jobs a day and receiving multiple rejection emails almost daily. However, you decided to run around Gotham with your applications after moving here. The hiring manager in front of you was skimming your resume, nodding along and telling you they were impressed, which felt like a small personal victory to you!
Yay! Pat yourself on the back!
They decided to have an interview with you, right then and there!
“That’s amazing! Could you tell me what made you interested in this position?”
Money.
“What made me interested—” And right in the middle of your interview with the hiring manager, the office door slammed open.
A woman that seemed to be in their late twenties or early thirties, long gorgeous blonde curls stumbled in, red-eyed and shaking, sobbing so hard her words broke apart as she begged you not to work here.
“THE CEO IS AN ABSOLUTE SHITHEAD—”
“Ma’am you need to lea—”
“Do not work with that sorry-excuse of a MAN!”
“Alright, that’s it—”
“Get your hands off of me NOW! I AM SAVING THAT POOR GIRL—” Security dragged her away while she kicked and cried, and the hiring manager cleared their throat like they were trying to swallow an entire cough drop.
“Anyway…” they awkwardly moved on.
Yikes didn’t even begin to cover it.
After the interview, you just went back to your life. You were cleaning your apartment, keeping your mind busy with chores the next few days, binge-watching a series, and applying to different jobs. Honestly, You kind of assumed that you weren’t going to get the job after that happened, I mean would you hire someone after that interruption? Yeah. After that incident, there was no way they were calling you back.
“I mean, that was the craziest thing I’ve ever experienced, and I just moved here!” You said loudly, half–talking over the sizzle of the pan as you stirred your dinner with one hand and kept an AirPod tucked in the other ear. “What do you expect, babe? You moved from Star City on the west coast all the way to the east coast.” Chelsea’s voice crackled lightly through your AirPod.
You glanced at your phone on the counter. The FaceTime screen showed your friend lounging on her couch in Metropolis, her hair tied up and a mug in her hand, looking far too comfortable compared to the chaos you had walked into this week. Her eyebrows were raised like she already knew you were regretting the relocation.
“You should’ve just come with me to Metropolis, I don’t know why you decided to end up in Gotham, New Jersey. For god sake's, have you seen the crime rate!?” You snort, rolling your eyes.
“I’d rather see dumbass people try to get into my nice apartment and not my whole ass apartment blown away by some creature from another planet—”
“Oh please! At least one of them erases the problem easily!” You frowned at that.
Okay. Maybe she got you there.
“Doesn’t Metropolis rip in half like every once a month—” Chelsea cut you a look through the screen, lifting her mug like she was preparing to smack you with it through FaceTime. Her expression said don’t even start, which you replied with your hands up in surrender, your spatula raised with it.
“Where’d you even apply, anyways?”
You shrugged and kept stirring your food. “I don’t even know. I applied to a bunch of companies, but I think the interview I actually went to was at Wayne Enterprises.”
Silence.
A dangerous, heavy silence.
“Are you dumb—!?”
“Chill! I have my AirPods in!” you shouted back, flinching from the raise of her voice. Chelsea let out a long, exhausted sigh that somehow felt like a lecture.
“Which position did you apply for?”
“…personal assistant?”
She immediately screamed your full government name, and you winced so hard your shoulders nearly hit your ears.
You decided to turn her volume down.
“Are you just going to keep screaming at me without actually telling me what’s wrong with applying there?” you snapped, waving your spatula like it could shield you from her judgment.
Chelsea grumbled, pure disappointment settling into every line of her face. “I cannot believe you live under a rock. Damian Wayne. One of the youngest, successful, and arguably the hottest CEO in the country— not my type, but his father is, he’s a standard DILF in my book and will always be in my heart. Ring any bells?”
You blinked.
Slowly.
Did she have to mention the fact her type is the CEO’s father?
“He is notorious for going through personal assistants,” she couldn’t believe your lack of knowledge while continuing. She gestures wildly with her mug with a click of her tongue. “Girl, they all leave within the first month, it’s all over Reddit! Constantly! And it’s not even because he fires them. They just cannot deal with him!”
“Not even the paycheck can make them stay in this economy?” Chelsea slapped her hand on the coffee table so hard her cat shot straight into the air and sprinted out of frame like it feared for its life.
“Not even the paycheck can make them stay in this economy!” She shouted, leaning so close to the camera you could see every stressed-out pore on her face.
“Well, it’s a good thing I won’t be hired then, right?” You begin to scoop your food into a bowl, turning the stove off while you listen to Chelsea relievingly sigh in approval, her shoulders relaxing when she recalls the story you’ve told her.
“Yeah, I doubt they’ll hire you since Goldilocks decided to save you from the trenches. You’re lucky you dodged a bullet.”
Chelsea was wrong.
The next day, you received an email from the poor hiring manager with stressed eye bags that showed straight through the concealer, informing you that you had been accepted for the job.
You stared at the screen.
You got the job.
You should reject it.
Yet, you’ve been rejected left and right.
And the salary was so good—
Chelsea’s vice echoes through your head, the warnings she has told you.
“They all leave within the first month!”
Well. If you’re expected to leave the first month, you might as well get your money and dip when it gets intolerable. I mean, like, fuck it, the worst you can do is ghost the job.
What’s the worst that can happen?
No one warned you.
Well, Chelsea technically warned you.
But, you knew he would be presentable, but not—
Not like this.
“Ah! There he is, this is your boss, Damian Wayne.”
He didn’t walk into the room so much as he cut through it like gravity pulled differently around him. Sharp posture, silent steps, and sharp narrowed eyes that hit you with the same force as a spotlight— green, but not soft. More like polished jade or a blade’s edge reflecting light. It spoke of calculation, assessing, and it felt so direct when it landed on you.
It felt like getting pinned to a corkboard.
His face was almost unfair.
They were clean, symmetrical, and sharp lines. He had a strong jaw that looked like it had been carved deliberately.
There was no boyish charm to him; he had the kind of beauty people hesitate to call beautiful because it sounds too delicate for someone who carries that much confidence. But handsome didn’t feel strong enough either. He was absolutely striking to look at, unattainable, and unforgettable. He had that kind of attractiveness that makes your brain lag for half a second while your mouth tries to remember how to say ‘hello.’
And his expression didn’t help.
He looked at you the way someone looks at a report they already expect to be disappointed by (it was awful), brows slightly drawn, and lips pressed flat in a line that made you painfully aware of just how nice his lips were, they were clearly well taken care of, moisturized and a hue of color on them.
His hair was annoyingly perfect too. Dark, thick, not a strand out of place, like it was styled by sheer discipline instead of product. The kind of hair you could imagine falling into his eyes if he let it grow even a little longer but he never would, of course.
Then there was the way he dressed: crisp, tailored, so flawlessly put-together that you suddenly felt underdressed in clothes you had ironed twice in your blouse and your slacks. He didn’t even have to try; he just existed and the room rearranged itself around him.
But the worst part?
He didn’t even seem aware of how attractive he was. Or maybe he was and just didn’t care.
He looked at you, held your gaze for a fraction too long, and said flat, cool, and without so much as a greeting.
“Um, it’s nice to meet you, I’m your—”
“Tt, I know who you are. You’re the new assistant. HR must be desperate nowadays. You look like someone they scraped off the bottom of the applicant pile.”
Your first impression of Damian Wayne?
You want to absolutely kill him.
Surely you misheard him. Right?
Surely no living person with a functioning sense of self-preservation would say that out loud. Right?
But no. Damian Wayne just stood there, expression carved from ice, like your existence itself was an inconvenience he was being forced to endure.
You inhaled slowly through your nose.
“I—” You forced your voice to stay even.
“I’m here to make your schedule easier, Mr. Wayne.”
“Good,” he plainly said with a monotone voice, already brushing past you like you were a piece of office furniture. “I don’t have expectations for you to stay here longer than a month, so don’t try too hard as a temporary assistant, they always do.”
Your eye twitched.
This aggravating piece of shit—
He stopped at his desk, not even glancing back before gesturing to a stack of folders that’s on his desk.
“Organize these by priority and competency.” He paused, glancing briefly at your figure.
“Assuming you’re capable of both.” You wore the most corporate expression you’ve ever worn in your life, a face that felt like you wanted to shatter yourself and slap the shit out of him. “Of course,” you said sweetly with the fakest smile you’ve ever worn on your life.
Venomously sweet.
“I’ll handle it.” You knew he could hear that sickening sweet fake voice.
“Good.” He simply stated, sighing before he shooed you away. “Try to keep up.”
You didn’t trust yourself to respond.
Not with words. Not with sounds.
You swallowed every snarky comment sitting on your tongue, because nothing in that office could legally be used against you in a workplace lawsuit. Instead, you scooped up the stack of folders he shoved into your arms and marched out before your own mouth created problems your paycheck could not fix.
God, you needed this job.
The salary alone was enough to chain you here for at least a few weeks, maybe even longer if your spite stayed strong. A traitorous part of you even considered turning this into a personal challenge. If you had to endure the daily torment of working for Damian Wayne, then fine. You would survive this place. You would outlast his attitude. You would make it to the one month mark just to prove a point.
And before you finally walked out of this corporate purgatory, you would leave a little surprise in his office, something truly unforgettable, something that would remind him that you had been here. The door shut behind you with a soft click that somehow felt like it saved your life.
The hiring manager trailed after you like a ghost fleeing the scene of a violent crime. Their footsteps were rushed, panicked, like they were afraid Damian might call them back inside if they didn’t move fast enough. They had been completely silent during the encounter, which— given what just happened— felt like its own form of apology.
Or guilt.
You didn’t speak at first.
You needed a second.
Your soul needed a second.
Your blood pressure needs at least 30 seconds.
Finally, once you’d made it a safe distance down the hall, far enough that Damian can’t hear the rattling cage of your heart that wanted to scream at him.
You exhaled.
“…Okay,” you muttered, gripping the folders so tightly they crinkled. You’re going to need to find different folders if they end up creased.
“So that happened.”
The hiring manager let out a strangled sound that might have been a laugh. It might’ve been a whimper. It was hard to tell. “That,” they said, “was… one of his better mornings.” You stared at them in stunned silence.
They avoided eye contact, shoulders tensed like someone with chronic fight-or-flight syndrome. “I hoped he’d be in a good mood today. He had coffee. And a board meeting went well. Usually that helps.”
“That was him in a good mood?”
They nodded, grimly. “Comparatively.”
You stared down the hallway toward Damian’s office door, half expecting it to burst open again just to finish you off.
Honestly? You kind of hoped he would. At least then you could be the first assistant in Wayne Enterprises history to get fired in under ten minutes.
But no.
You were still employed. And you wanted so badly to prove that dickhead wrong.
“Don’t take it personally,” the hiring manager mentions quickly, hands fluttering like they were trying to calm a spooked animal. “He’s usually like that! I mean, not worse, but not better either.” They winced at their own explanation. “Here, let me… let me just take you to your office.”
You followed with the folders clutched to your chest. Your inch-heels clicked softly against the sleek hallway floors, each step a quiet reminder that you were officially in too deep to turn back.
The office around you was alive in that overwhelming, corporate-machine kind of way. Murmurs drifted from half-open doors, printers whirred like they were running for their lives, phones rang nonstop, and people in tailored suits rushed past with urgent expressions and coffee cups that looked dangerously full.
It was the kind of place where everyone seemed to be moving toward something important.
Except you.
You were just trying not to drop the folders or spontaneously combust. You adjusted your grip, inhaled slowly, and forced yourself to match the hiring manager’s brisk pace.
Every passing face glanced at you, all of them were curious, sympathetic, or simply entertained by the existence of a new victim. The looks were so blatant you started to wonder if there was a running office bet on how long you’d last. If there was, you were absolutely putting your money on surviving a month.
A month and a day. And an extra minute just to spite all of them.
You were going to get through this.
You were going to make it through the first month, even if you hated your boss with the intensity of a thousand suns. If not out of ambition…
Then out of pure, unadulterated spite.
Within an hour, you’ve finally settled into your new office, which was far too large for any normal personal assistant, you began plotting. Every drawer, every neatly stacked folder, every perfectly lined pen became part of your mission to prove him wrong.
You were going to arrive early, organize everything to perfection, and carry yourself with the righteous fury of someone determined to weaponize competence.
You were going to be the best goddamn assistant he had for a month!
You’re going to look him in the eye, tell him to eat fuckin’ shit, and walk out of his office with your dignity intact and his pride dented.
Except.
This is going to be really awkward.
You have been his personal assistant for three months.
Chelsea sits across from you in a high-end Gotham café, the kind of place with marble tables, velvet chairs, and coffee so expensive it feels like a personal attack. It is a luxury you can finally afford thanks to the absurdly generous salary that comes with being Damian Wayne’s personal assistant.
“So what’s been up with you—”
Once she settles into her seat, you launch into the whole story, unpacking every chaotic detail of your first week under the city’s most insufferable, sharp-tongued, walking stress migraine of a boss while she gaped at you, even she choked on her coffee once you mentioned the fact you were originally going to plan to tell your boss to eat shit!
“You have been keeping this from me for months!?”
Chelsea nearly shrieks, her voice shooting up enough that you can practically picture her cat back home sprinting under the nearest piece of furniture in self-defense. She drags a hand through her hair with the kind of exasperation that suggests she is seconds away from either combusting or demanding financial reparations for emotional distress.
“I thought you worked at a different company! I thought you didn’t get the Wayne job!” You flinch and lean forward, shushing her as a few nearby patrons glance over with raised eyebrows.
“I’m sorry! Trust me, I am surprised too!” You exclaimed in a quieter voice, pinching the bridge of your nose before your nerves started leaking out of your mouth. “I thought you would have seen it on the news or Reddit. People keep making threads about Damian Wayne’s personal assistant. Me! I am the longest assistant he has ever had.”
Chelsea just stares.
It is the kind of stare reserved for witnessing small miracles, natural disasters, or an animal walking into a Walmart wearing a vest.
“He hasn’t fired you,” she says.
“He hasn’t fired me,” you repeat.
“Not yet.”
“Hopefully not.”
Chelsea sighs, not out of dialing but exaggeration. “At least it pays you well, right?”
“It does, it pays really well actually.” You point to your bracelet, displaying Tiffany and co., that you were surprised to even purchase with the first paycheck that came in, it could cover your rent, car insurance, and two months worth of groceries!
Chelsea hums.
“Well, it’s been a few months now, why haven’t you left your boss if you hate him, babe?”
Well. Things have changed.
You fiddled with your drink, turning the cup in slow circles before lifting it to your lips. The moment you glanced off to the side, pretending to admire the ridiculously pretentious light fixtures or the overpriced pastries behind the counter, you knew you were done for. Chelsea had known you for years.
She could read you like a billboard on a highway.
Her eyes narrowed. “That,” she said, pointing her straw at you like a weapon, “is your I am hiding something face.”
“I’m not hiding anything!”
“That’s your lying voice too.”
You groaned, slumping your shoulders. “I don’t wanna tell you.” You leaned against your arm on the table with a frown, looking at her with the most depressing gaze ever.
She sighs.
“Tell me, what’s wrong.” You mumbled incoherent words that she couldn’t catch.
“It can’t be that bad, but you gotta tell me clearly, babe.”
“I said I like him,” you folded your arms together against the table, slowly hiding your face while you looked at your friend.
Chelsea froze, processing your words slowly.
For a full three seconds, she did not blink, breathe, or otherwise behave like a living organism. Then she leaned forward, squinting at you like you had just confessed to worshipping a fantasy character.
“You what.”
You pulled your arms in tighter, sinking into yourself like you could physically escape the consequences of your own admission.
“I like him,” you repeated, quieter this time, feeling a burn on your neck and the tip of your ears, and your cheeks as well.
Was it getting hotter in this cafe?
Chelsea slapped both hands on the table so hard the silverware rattled. “You have got to be kidding me,” she hissed, keeping her voice just barely below a scream. “You like Damian Wayne?! THE Damian Wayne!? I thought you said you hated him not even five minutes ago!?”
You winced.
“I know.”
“He insulted you on sight!”
“I know.”
“He made three assistants cry before lunch in one week according to that Reddit post five months ago when I last went on there!”
“I know, I read that too.” You cringed.
She leaned in even closer, eyes wide with catastrophic disappointment.
“And you like him.”
You nodded, defeated.
Chelsea dropped her face into her hands.
“Oh my god,” she whispered into her palms. “There’s absolutely no way.” She dragged her fingers down her cheeks in slow, tortured disbelief, then lifted her head just enough to glare at you through the cracks.
“What happened to your standards!? He was rude, mean, a dickhead, a shit-head! And he said you wouldn’t last a month!”
You huffed, crossing your arms with a pout.
“It’s not my fault,” you muttered. “He’s… different when he’s not being… rude.” Chelsea scoffed loudly.
“Different how. Does he switch from dickhead to mildly tolerable asshat? Does he say please once every equinox?”
Chelsea shook her head, disbelief etched on her face.
“He basically insulted your existence before you even started!”
You glared at her, already feeling a creak of embarrassment from the reminder she’s given.
“He… holds doors sometimes.”
“Oh dear Jesus,” she groaned quietly, staring at you like you had personally disappointed the entire human race, shock was an understatement for her.
“Sometimes? Not all the time!? You are not just down bad. You are subterranean! You are in the Earth’s core and you are at the center of the planet melting!”
You were starting to feel like you were melting into a puddle.
“Holding doors? Are you kidding me!? I fear that’s the bare minimum!” She reiterated once more, shooting back with a cry.
You wilted a little.
“Babe! I literally held the door for you 30 minutes ago!”
She wasn’t wrong.
Chelsea sighed, long and heavy, like she was preparing herself for a friendship intervention. “Okay,” she finally came down from her thoughts, sitting upright again. “Start from the beginning. And tell me exactly how long you’ve had this tragic, misguided crush so I know how early the corruption began.” You glanced away, a small, knowing smile tugging at your lips.
You already knew where it began.
Damian Wayne didn’t just hold doors for you— sometimes, he could actually be kind.
Actually, erase that.
What the fuck are you talking about?
It started off when there was an office party at the end of your second week at the company.
The team decided it was best to celebrate after successfully completing a tough collaboration, and despite your reservations, you found yourself there, trying to blend in among Gotham’s elite.
The “party,” which was really just a glorified networking event, was held in a sleek, modern lounge with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the glittering sprawl of Gotham. Soft jazz curled through the air, creating a warm atmosphere while coworkers clustered in small circles, murmuring over half-finished drinks. Glasses clinked. Ice chimed against the crystal. Someone laughed too loudly at a joke that probably wasn’t funny.
You lingered by the refreshment table, holding a champagne flute you had barely touched, watching the room from the safety of the sidelines. The dim lighting made everything feel softer, warmer, less like the corporate machine you worked in and more like a scene from a movie you didn’t belong in.
You were debating whether to grab a cheese cube or just take another sip of your second drink when you felt a shift in the atmosphere beside you. A quiet disturbance, like the air bracing itself.
Damian had appeared.
He stood a few feet away, dressed sharply as always, although the usual severity in his expression seemed dulled by the warm glow of the lounge lights. His posture was still rigid, but the sharp scowl you had come to mentally prepare for wasn’t as deep.
His gaze found yours immediately.
“Oh. It’s you. I wondered why all the birds stopped singing.”
Damian’s voice cut through the hum of conversation, quieter than usual but still carrying that cool edge that scraped your nerves raw.
You raised a brow and crossed your arms, turning to face him fully with a slight fire of irritation, faking a smile in his direction. “No one's forcing you to be around me? Pick another spot, or fire me. I don’t care.”
You were surprised he didn’t fire you right then and there.
It was only your second week.
His eyes flicked over you, assessing, unreadable, before he reached for a drink from the nearby table. “I highly doubt you want to be fired within two weeks.” You furrowed your brows, the anger rising quickly.
You cannot believe you work with this man.
Around the two of you, the soft buzz of the party carried on. Laughter drifted from a nearby table, someone popped open a bottle of sparkling water, and the jazz band eased into a slower melody. Yet despite the noise, the space between you and Damian felt strangely isolated, a small bubble of tension carved clean out of the room’s warm energy.
Please don’t stand next to me. Please don’t come stand next to me. Pleasenotnexttome!
But he shifted, stepping just slightly closer as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Of course, he stands next to you, but just far enough away that there’s an empty space between you.
“Do you really have to stand there?” you muttered, frowning at him.
“You don’t own the space,” he replied, rolling his eyes with that signature Damian Wayne disdain, the type that somehow felt personally designed to get under your skin.
Before you could bite back, the crowd shifted.
A girl you didn’t recognize wove through the party’s glittering mess of people, smiling so brightly it made your teeth ache. She slipped right between you and Damian, brushing your shoulder with a light, oblivious, “Oops, sorry!”
You step back, momentarily thrown off, while Damian’s eyes narrow slightly, but he says nothing.
Luckily, your drink wasn’t spilled.
Oh! Mr. Wayne,” she gushes, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear in a move so practiced it should’ve come with choreography. “I didn’t expect to see you here. You look amazing tonight!”
Damian gives her a flat, polite look that is somehow more dismissive than if he’d ignored her entirely.
“Thank you.”
She steps a little closer, her shoulder nearly brushing his.
“I was just telling my friends I’d love to get to know more people in the industry. Maybe you could give me some tips?”
Damian’s expression doesn’t change.
“Tips,” he repeats, voice cool.
“I do not offer those.”
“Oh! Well, maybe you could show me instead?”
“Not interested.”
“Not even one minute of your time, sir?”
“I’m busy.”
“I could jus—”
“Are you deaf, woman?” you cut in before she can finish, smiling sharply when her head snaps toward you in offense.
Your tone is honeyed, your eyes absolutely not. You watch her expression, her mouth opening, outrage bubbling up.
“Excuse me?”
You tilt your head, taking a slow sip of your drink. Her jaw works soundlessly, cheeks flushing red, and she sputters a half-formed insult before managing,
“Who do you think you are?”
Before you can respond, Damian does.
“She’s my childhood best friend.”
You choke on your drink so violently you almost decorate the floor with it.
Childhood best—
The hell is this coming from?
The girl snaps her head toward Damian, frowning, irritation breaking through her forced sweetness.
“Really? She doesn’t look like it.”
You raise a brow so sharp it could cut glass.
What is that supposed to mean?
“Well, she used to be.”
She raised an infuriating brow at Damian with a twisted frown, clearly offended by your continued existence and a tad bit curiosity shining within them.
You mouthed seriously over her shoulder at your boss that completely ignored you.
You lean in slightly, lowering your voice in a conspiratorial tone that makes her perk up just enough.
“If you’re so curious,” you say, smiling with all the sincerity of a cat staring at a canary, “we’re not childhood friends for a reason.”
You lie through your teeth without hesitation.
And right beside the woman, Damian watches over you— quiet, unreadable, and unmistakably intrigued.
“Why is that?” she asks, hesitating, clearly torn between morbid curiosity.
You smile sweetly.
“When we were young, I went over to his house and watched him drink his own blood for breakfast, like it was some artisanal smoothie because he thought he was a vampire.” You shook your head. “His family had to send him to a mental hospital after he bit four of our classmates' necks, luckily he only killed two.”
There is a silence so thick you could scoop it with a spoon.
The girl’s eyes widened in absolute horror.
And beside her, Damian— Damian Wayne, Gotham’s coldest, most composed, most impossible-to-shake man stares at you over her shoulder, lips parted, expression stunned.
“Seriously?” She say, absolutely turning pale by the second with a hint of disbelief and skepticism in her tone, yet she’s starting to believe you.
You nodded solemnly, as if delivering a tragic, documented truth.
“One of the nurses put garlic in his sandwich and he absolutely freaked out. Therapists had to come in and talk him down while he kept yelling about curses, mortal treachery, and how garlic was the ‘bane of his eternal existence.’”
You shrugged.
“Thank god he’s on medication.”
Damian closes his eyes for one long, suffering second. When he opens them again, there’s a spark there.
A dangerous one.
“I’ll do you better,” he says, voice smooth and deadpan. “When she was younger, she used to crawl into the garbage at one in the morning because she was fully convinced she was a raccoon. She tried to square-up with the actual animal for dominance. She lost.”
Your smile freezes, peering over her shoulder. Raccoon? Are you serious? You mouthed. “She ate the wrappers in our garbage. Ate them. Like they were gourmet. A total nutcase. She walked on all fours so committedly she developed calluses. Hissed at anyone who got too close— neighbors, mailmen, and the mayor once. Animal control tried to trap her three separate times. A complete lost cause.”
The woman looks like she’s about to throw up, hand hovering near her mouth as if bracing for a second round of trauma.
Your jaw drops.
“She’s come a long way,” Damian adds, eyes glinting with quiet amusement, “but sometimes she relapses and we find her in a dumpster in the back of BatBurger.”
You stare at him, appalled.
You turn to her, lowering your voice like you are sharing the saddest, darkest secret of your generation.
“One time he didn’t take his meds and someone accidentally spilled water on him. He thought it was holy water,” you say gravely, watching her head swivel back to you. “So he started screaming about being burned alive like bread in a toaster. In public. Very loud. Very dramatic. He threw himself onto the floor and writhed like a dying Victorian child. People thought an exorcism was happening in aisle five.”
You sigh, shaking your head as if reliving the tragedy.
“He yelled that he was going to die. It took four security guards and his dad to calm him down.”
“She had to wear an ankle monitor that she bit off,” Damian cuts in, no longer staring at her, but at you.
What the absolute fuck.
“She sharpened her claws since she still thought she was a raccoon and gouged someone’s eyes out in a local church. She ate those eyeballs, but told the police that god took them. The victim is still alive. They’re blind and they no longer go to church.”
The woman swallows so hard you can hear it.
“You’re absolutely joking.”
Yes, he is,” you say sweetly, pinning the woman with a reassuring smile that is only a few degrees away from a threat.
“I’m not, he killed two of my cats and my other friend for one of his sacrificial rituals, trying to summon the damn devil to get immortality. At age ten. We had to get a priest, and the actual exorcist,” you continue, as if you’re giving her directions to the mall.
“We had to strap him to a bed. Full head spin. Latin chanting. He spoke in seven different voices— none of them his. One of them was an elderly Italian man who’s been dead since 1842.”
She looks absolutely sick to her stomach.
“Holy symbols were flying off the walls. The lights flickered, and the temperature dropped twenty degrees. At one point, he levitated. Horizontally. Like a possessed IKEA shelf.” You lift your glass, sipping unbothered.
“He nearly killed the priest, too. Launched him across the room with telekinetic rage. The priest survived only because we dumped an entire Costco-sized vat of holy water on him and force-fed him garlic cloves like he was a charcuterie board and faced him towards the sun.”
“You— both of you are absolutely insane!” The woman sways a little, looking between the two of you like she’s trying to decide whether to run, scream, or call the police.
“I thought this was a networking event. I’m not… I’m not spiritually prepared for whatever that was.” She makes a choked noise, turns on her heel, and speed-walks away like she expects one of you to start foaming at the mouth.
You watch her disappear into the crowd. Then you turn to Damian, giving him the flattest, most pointed look you can manage.
“Childhood friends? Seriously.”
He exhales through his nose, the closest he ever gets to an eye roll without actually doing it.
“A vampire. Are you kidding me?”
“I just wanted to tell someone that you drank blood for breakfast.”
After that incident, Damian had somewhat tolerated you.
You were going to make it— the first month, you’ve found yourself also tolerating Damian’s presence after that incident.
He stopped ignoring you like you were a ghost only he wished was dead.
You stopped fantasizing about strangling him with his own tie.
He stopped snapping at you every time you breathed within a three-foot radius.
You stopped wanting to shove him into the nearest supply closet (and lock it).
You started walking into his office without rehearsing three insults in your head first.
He started not sighing dramatically every time you would walk in, only because you told him to quit it.“What’re are you fuckin’ five years old? Get a grip.”
You were surprised you weren’t fired the minute you said that too.
There was honestly a lot of things that you’ve been lucky to get away with.
It was honestly nice.
He started becoming too nice.
He started holding doors for you.
Not in a showy, look-how-chivalrous-I-am way.
More like: he’d reach the door, pause, and wordlessly keep it open without looking at you. As if it was simply easier than watching you juggle your bag, tablet, water bottle, and your will to live all in one minute.
Then came the coffee.
Not just any coffee.
Your order.
Perfectly correct down to the amount of sweetener you never told him about.
It would appear on your desk at 8:07 every morning. The exact minute you usually sat down, being 23 minutes early as always with no explanation except a quiet, muttered:
“The barista on the first floor kept messing up my drink. They gave me this instead.”
He said it like it annoyed him.
He handed it to you like it didn’t.
And he walked away before you could question him about how the barista “accidentally” made your drink four days in a row.
Then there were the other things.
He’d push the elevator button for both of you without being asked.
He’d slow his stride by half a step so you could keep up with files in your arms to attend the next meeting with him, pretending it was unintentional.
If you were carrying too many folders, he’d take half without comment, eyes forward, as if he could pretend he wasn’t helping you.
Once, he even redirected a rude executive who barked at you in the hallway, stepping in with a clipped, cold:
“My personal assistant is busy. Speak to someone else.”
You almost dropped your tablet at that comment.
That was when your heart started racing. It was sharp, sudden, and betraying you before you even understood why.
It wasn’t the dramatic kind of fluttering people wrote about in books, nothing soft or romantic. It was a tight, startled thump in your chest, the kind that made your breath catch for half a second as heat crawled quietly up your neck.
It happened in the small moments, the ones you never expected to matter— when his hand brushed yours as he passed you a file, when his voice dropped lower than usual as he asked a question, when he stood just a little too close in the elevator and you could feel the faint warmth radiating from him.
Every quiet act of consideration, every glance that lingered a beat longer than it should have, stirred something unsteady beneath your ribs. It felt like your body realized something before your mind did, like your instincts were trying to tell you that Damian’s sudden gentleness wasn’t random at all.
And once you noticed it, once your heart reacted— you couldn’t un-notice it.
Each day it only beats a little faster.
Especially that one night, the night everything went sideways so violently it felt personal.
The office was unnervingly quiet after hours. Most of the overhead lights had already clicked off, leaving long stretches of the floor in a low, ambient glow. The only illumination near you came from your monitor, washing your desk in a cold, bluish light that made the scattered papers look like crime scene evidence.
Your shoulders ached from sitting too long.
Your eyes burned.
Your coffee had gone cold sometime around 7 p.m., and you kept drinking it anyway because the bitterness felt like fuel.
You had taken on too much work. You knew that. You felt it as soon as your fingers began to tremble over your keyboard.
The HVAC system hummed softly above you. Somewhere far down the hall, a printer woke up and made a lonely mechanical noise before going quiet again. Your own breath sounded too loud in the open, empty space.
You clicked into the project folder that was supposed to contain sixty-eight documents.
It had six.
Six documents blinking back at you like they were mocking you.
Your stomach dropped so fast it made you dizzy.
You refreshed the tab. Nothing changed. You tried again. Still six. The rest had vanished— scrambled somewhere across Wayne Enterprises’ ocean of internal servers.
You whispered, “No, no, no… oh, come on, not tonight.”
Your fingers flew, searching through subfolders, archives, misnamed files. You found some mislabeled under an entirely different project. Others were saved in outdated formats. A few looked corrupted, their icons taunting you with dull, broken symbols.
You spent the next hour piecing them back together, shuffling between windows, dragging things into place, the soft clicking of your mouse echoing in the cavernous silence.
When you finally rebuilt the folder and opened it again…
Half of it was still missing.
Gone.
Deleted.
Not even a ghost in the recycle bin.
Your pulse thundered in your ears.
The fluorescent light above your cubicle flickered once, dramatically, like it was judging your life choices.
The air felt too thin.
Your throat tightened.
All of this— every file, every signature, every revision— was due in two days.
You pushed both hands into your forehead and muttered, “This is it. This is where I die. Right here. In this stupid chair. They’ll find my corpse fossilized into this mesh ergonomic backing.”
You mumbled to yourself before glancing at the clock on your screen.
8:43 p.m.
The rest of the floor was a graveyard. Dark offices. Empty chairs. Silent conference rooms. Not even the janitorial staff had come by yet.
You forced yourself to sit down and get to work because no one else was going to fix this disaster, even if it wasn’t your fault. The responsibility still sat heavy on your shoulders if you didn’t do anything, almost like a physical weight pressing between your shoulder blades.
You had to track down every missing document, rebuild what was gone, and prepare the entire set before the deadline that glared at you from your calendar in a furious shade of red.
Your own workload sat beside it, equally demanding after you’ve redone the first five of the thirty documents.
Your email inbox kept chiming every few minutes, each notification a tiny reminder that you were behind.
The piles on your desk had grown uneven and tall enough to lean like stressed-out skyscrapers.
Half of Damian’s stack stared at you like it had been personally offended by your existence. Your shared calendar flickered on your monitor with overlapping meetings, last-minute adjustments, and bright color-coded tasks that all claimed to be the highest priority.
You glance at the time.
10:28 p.m.
Just as you’re about to dive back into the mountain of paperwork, the door to the office swings open. Damian steps in, his expression a mix of confusion and mild irritation.
“You’re still here?” His voice is calm but edged with disbelief.
You look up, blinking away the exhaustion.
“I have one more thing to finish.”
Multiple things actually.
He shakes his head slowly, eyes narrowing. “It’s late. Everyone else has gone home hours ago. Your light is the only one on.”
Oh.
You bite back the exhaustion creeping into your voice.
“I’m almost done.”
Damian’s gaze lingers on you for a moment, unreadable.
Then, without another word, he steps back toward the door, the quiet weight of the night settling once more around you.
You thought he had left, leaning against your chair to take at least a five minute nap without any interruption.
But moments later, he reappears, holding his jacket in one hand, his eyes fixed on you with that same sharp intensity.
“Let’s go.”
You blink in surprise.
“What—?” You shake your head, stubbornness flaring despite your exhaustion.
“I’ve got it under control. I just need a little more time.”
He cuts you off with a flat tone, hearing you yawn afterwards.
“It’s almost 11 p.m. I don’t trust you behind the wheel when you’re this close to falling asleep in your office chair.” You blink, caught off guard by his blunt concern, the tension in the room shifting just a little.
“I can just call an Uber?” you offer weakly, half out of stubbornness, half because you don’t know what else to do with the sudden warmth crawling up your neck.
What are you supposed to do in this situation?
“Don’t be stupid and waste your money on that…” he fiddles with his cuffs, “I’ll drive you home.” His tone snaps like a reprimand, firm and irritated, but underneath it is something unmistakably protective.
He clicks his tongue, already annoyed for you, at you, around you, like you were the one being unreasonable for… existing past 10 p.m. in a corporate building.
He gestures sharply at your desk with a small glare, the kind that isn’t really anger but more of a silent command.
Pack up. Now.
And despite yourself.
Despite how confusing this whole moment is, despite the way your face warms at the edges, you actually listen. Your hands move on instinct, gathering your things while your thoughts spiral in a confused, flustered whirl:
Why does he care?
Why is he doing this?
Why is he taking you home?
Is this normal? You thought.
It’s just work related, right?
Yeah. Work-related.
For a boss to take their personal assistant home?
The realization lands with a quiet, heavy thud— one that makes your fingertips fumble over the zipper of your bag, your breath catching for just a beat.
Did he do this to his other assistants?
You glance at the man and the calendar on your desk.
He shows up at your doorframe at almost eleven at night, jacket in hand, eyes lingering on you as he patiently waits for you to gather your things. And as you sling your bag over your shoulder, heart a little too light and a little too frantic, you can’t stop thinking:
Why is he still at Wayne Enterprise at 11 p.m. when his schedule was cleared after 6 p.m.?
You follow him out the door, steps quiet, falling just a half-pace behind him like your body hasn’t caught up to the situation yet. Confusion presses tightly across your face, your brows drawn together, lips thinned as you stare at the back of his head. His strides are steady, purposeful, like this is the most normal thing in the world.
Meanwhile, your thoughts are a mess, tumbling over each other as you trail him down the dim hallway lit only by recessed lights and the soft hum of overnight ventilation.
He doesn’t glance back once.
Of course he doesn’t.
Damian Wayne never does anything as obvious as checking if you’re following.
He just expects you to.
And you do.
You both get onto the elevator, pressing onto the garage floor button while you both stand awkwardly next to each other.
“I hope… you don’t mind me asking sir, but what were you doing here past 10 p.m…”
“Finishing reports,” he says simply. His tone is flat, businesslike, but not sharp. “Some of the board files were delayed, so I stayed to review them before tomorrow.”
You nod, knowing he can see it from the corner of his gaze.
The elevator hums around you, the soft whir of machinery filling the quiet. The two of you stand side by side, close enough that you can feel the faint heat radiating off his suit jacket but not close enough to touch. You could smell his cologne that lingers on him. It drifts toward you in soft waves: clean, subtle, and expensive in a way that doesn’t brag.
Something sharp at the start, like bergamot or cedar, softened by something warm underneath, like velvet.
The elevator quietly dings, the soft chime echoing through the empty garage as the doors slide open. Fluorescent lights hum overhead, casting long shadows across rows of empty parking spots. You trail after Damian, your footsteps sounding small in the cavernous space.
He walks with purposeful strides, not hurried but direct, straight past the reserved spaces, toward a sleek black car with two doors, a nice Porsche 911 that looks too polished for how late it is. He doesn’t check if you are keeping up, yet somehow you know he is fully aware of every step you take behind him.
You follow him through the quiet, cool air of the garage, watching the way his jacket shifts with each movement, the way he reaches into his pocket for his keys without slowing his pace.
He unlocks the car with a soft click.
He reaches the car and stops beside the passenger side, pulling the handle without hesitation. The door swings open smoothly, the interior lights blooming to life in a soft glow that spills onto the concrete floor.
He doesn’t look at you while he does it.
His gaze stays forward, jaw set, expression unreadable, as if this is purely routine and not an act of shockingly old-fashioned courtesy from a man who once told you “move faster” instead of “good morning.”
He steps back just slightly, giving you room. “Stop standing around and get in.” He says quietly.
You blink at him, unsure whether to be offended, flustered, or concerned that your notoriously rude boss is speaking to you like a person instead of a defective office appliance.
His hand still rests on the top edge of the door, waiting.
You feel more awake than ever.
You think you can drive home.
“Mr. Wayne, it’s fine, I can drive myself home—”
He gives you a look.
Just one sharply raised brow that communicates an entire paragraph:
You’re not driving. Get in the car.
Your protests die on your tongue.
You swallow once, pulse kicking up for reasons you refuse to examine, gather yourself, and finally slide into the seat. The leather is cool beneath you, the interior quiet, the door closing with a soft, final click that feels far too intimate for something so mundane.
He walks around the hood, steps measured, and unhurried.
Instead, he glances at you. Just once. Brief, unreadable, but with enough weight behind it to pin you to the seat.
“Seatbelt,” he says.
Two syllables. Low. Firm. Not unkind, which is worse somehow. Your fingers move before your brain catches up, tugging the belt into place with a soft click.
Dear god. Sitting this close to your boss, the one you’ve found attractive, annoying, tolerable, and infuriating in rotating intervals— has to be the worst experience of your entire life.
You stare firmly ahead, refusing to let your gaze drift even an inch in his direction, because if it does, you’re almost certain you’ll combust on the spot. Meanwhile, he shifts into gear, turning the notch of the volume of his music that slowly settles into the air with the same calm, controlled ease he applies to everything, as if your internal panic isn’t loud enough to fill the whole car.
You exhale once, quietly.
This is fine.
You’re fine.
You’re absolutely not fine.
“Your address.”
You blink, turning your head a fraction before you can stop yourself.
“What?”
Damian raised an amused brow, the expression subtle but unmistakable. “I can’t drive you home if I don’t know where you live. The address.”
You swallow, suddenly aware of how loud your pulse sounds in your ears. “Oh. Right. It’s—” you recite it, stumbling only once over the street name.
He inputs it into the GPS with the same calm efficiency he approaches everything with, one hand steady on the wheel, the other moving with practiced ease across the screen.
“You shouldn’t be working overtime without telling me.” You blink, taken aback.
“What? I didn’t— I mean, it wasn’t— that late.”
“It was past ten,” he counters, tone flat but unmistakably irritated, what’s with him and having that underlying tone of passive aggressiveness? This is why everyone’s scared of him.
“That qualifies as late.”
“It really isn’t that late,” you argue, crossing your arms even though it does absolutely nothing to make you feel less defensive.
Damian shifts his grip on the wheel, making a turn at an intersection, leading to the freeway. “For you, maybe,” he says.
“You look like you were five minutes away from face-planting into your keyboard.”
Your shoulders stiffen.
“I was fine.”
“You were drooling,” he adds without missing a beat. You snap your head toward him, scandalized.
“I was NOT—”
He doesn’t even look at you— just continues driving, voice maddeningly even.
He exhales through his nose, like you’re the unreasonable one here.
“You were unconscious in your chair. Head tilted back. Mouth open. Classic drooling posture.”
YOU DIDN’T EVEN SLEEP?!?
“I wasn’t drooling,” you repeat, slower this time, because you know— you know— you weren’t.
“You’re lying.”
Damian’s lips twitch.
Not a smile.
Not quite.
But close enough that your stomach flips.
“I don’t lie,” he says coolly.
“You’re lying right now.”
Silence. A beat.
“…You were about to drool.”
Your jaw dropped.
“You—!”
“That’s worse,” he adds dryly.
You’re ready to launch into a full rebuttal, but he cuts in before you can speak: “You should thank me,” he says. “If you had actually started, I would’ve had to mop you off your desk.”
You’re actually going to kill him.
“Get me out of this car now.”
He doesn’t even flinch.
“If I stop on the freeway, we’ll both die.”
“That’s fine.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“Yes. It is.”
He finally glances your way, one eyebrow raised with a spark within his eyes, you knew he was reveling in it.
“You’re being dramatic.”
“You literally invented dramatic.” His fingers drum lightly against the steering wheel, betraying a flicker of amusement he refuses to acknowledge.
“That’s rich coming from you,” he says, voice calm but edged with something warm.
“If anyone here has a flair for theatrics, it’s the person who nearly face-planted onto a stack of financial reports and told that woman that I’ve supposedly killed two kids and was possessed.” You glare at him.
“It was for a good reason and I did you a favor!”
Damian turns his head just slightly, enough that you can see the curve of disbelief at the corner of his mouth.
“A favor,” he repeats, tone dry enough to evaporate water. “Your solution,” he says slowly, “was to convince her I bit a classmate, splashed with holy water by accident, summoned the devil, and committed— what was it?—‘multiple cat sacrifices.’”
You lift your chin. “To be fair, you added the part about me gouging out a guy’s eyes in church. And face-planting into the reports? Are you serious?”
“It haunts me to this day.”
“You didn’t even see it happen!” You scoffed.
“I didn’t have to. I heard the thud from halfway across the floor.”
Your jaw drops.
“You liar!”
“Possibly,” he admits, gaze returning to the road, “but you can’t prove it.” You grip your bag tighter, fighting the urge to throw it at him.
He’s impossible! A douchebag! A liar!
Despicable. Insolent. Smug. Humorous.
And Handsome with the capital ‘H’ annoying.
A soft, almost amused exhale slips out of him and you hate that your heart notices.
Your apartment building edges into view through the windshield. The familiar, worn brick and warm lights in the windows, something easy curls in your stomach.
You glance at him, then at the building, then back at him. You should probably at least have the decency to thank him for dropping you off to your place.
“Thank—”
“I’ll pick you up tomorrow before work.”
Your mouth snaps shut, staring at him.
“…What?” you finally manage, voice embarrassingly thin.
He wants to pick you up.
He’s planning to pick you up.
Damian slows to a stop at the curb in front of your building, the streetlight casting soft gold across the sharp line of his jaw. His hands remain steady on the wheel, expression irritatingly unreadable.
“I said I’ll pick you up tomorrow,” he repeats, this time he’s looking at you with a tilt of his head, like he’s informing you of the weather. “You clearly can’t be trusted to get adequate sleep, and I’m not dealing with you hallucinating through spreadsheets.”
Your jaw drops.
“I do NOT hallucinate— you’re— ugh! Unbelievable.” For a second of silence, there was a look of gentleness settling in his eyes, softening the sharp green into something that lingers a little too long on you.
“Seven thirty,” he says, ignoring your previous comment.
“Don’t be late.”
You grip your bag, still stunned, still not sure you’re hearing him correctly. “You don’t have to do that,” you protest, even though your voice comes out softer than you’d like.
“I know,” he replies simply.
You step out of the car on unsteady legs, heart beating far too fast for reasons you refuse to examine yet… but you do look back. You shift your weight, gripping your bag strap until your knuckles ache.
You watch the passenger window slide down. “Mr. Wayne, seriously. You don’t have to—”
“Damian.”
You ignore that.
Your front steps are only a few feet away now, but you suddenly feel like you’re standing on the edge of something a lot higher.
“You’re confusing me, you’re not making any sense at all,” you murmur, even though your voice betrays you by going soft again.
A cold breeze skims across your cheeks, the kind that promises Gotham’s autumn is heading towards the colder month. You pull your coat a little tighter, but it does nothing for the strange warmth curling under your ribs.
“It makes perfect sense,” he counters. “You run yourself into the ground. You forget meals and you revise everyone’s work.”
“I—”
“Twice,” he says without hesitation. “You revise their work twice.” He continues, quieter now, “you need to take care of yourself.” You blink, stunned by the simplicity of it.
By sincerity.
By the fact that it sounds dangerously close to concern.
“And that concerns you?” you ask, trying to keep it light, teasing, anything but the vulnerable thing it threatens to be. His eyes flick to yours, a spark of truth breaking through his usual restraint.
“It should,” he murmurs. “Shouldn’t it?”
There’s a silence that feels unsteady, fragile in a way neither of you dare acknowledge. He watches the faint cloud of breath that escapes you in the cold Gotham air, the way your frown tries and fails to hide the shift in your expression.
His gaze flicks toward your apartment, then back to you.
“Go inside. Get some rest.”
And even though you want to argue… you don’t. You can’t with him. Not when he’s looking at you like that. Your fingers curl around your keys. “Seven thirty,” you echo, trying not to sound as flustered as you feel.
He gives the smallest nod, the kind that somehow manages to feel like both approval and silent victory.“Good,” he says, a smirk across his lips.
You hesitate for half a second, then turn toward the entrance. “Goodnight,” he adds, voice low, steady and almost gentle if you weren’t careful with how you interpreted it.
You start walking, each step slow enough that you hate yourself a little for it. The lobby lights spill warm against the pavement, and just before you reach the door, something makes you glance back.
He’s still there, watching you get in safely.
One hand on the wheel, the other resting loosely by the gearshift, posture composed— but his eyes remain fixed on you until the very moment you slip inside with a scan of your apartment’s key and disappear from his sight.
Only then does he finally look away.
“And then? Did he pick you up?”
Chelsea asks, her face squished between her palms, eyes wide and sparkling like she’s watching the season finale of her favorite drama.
You stare at her.
She stares back, vibrating.
As if she wasn’t hating your boss 30 minutes ago.“Chelsea,” you say slowly, “I don’t even know what that was.”
“Oh my god, stop—did he pick you up?” She demands again, shaking your arm like she’s trying to rattle the answer out of you.
You sigh, drop your forehead onto the table, and mumble into the wood, “Yes.”
Chelsea gasps so violently you’re pretty sure she inhaled half the air in the café.
“There’s no way—”
“Not only that!” you cut in, throwing your hands up. “He would do it multiple times! My poor car would be stuck here at my job forever!” Chelsea doesn’t even try to hide her disgusted wince.
“Honestly… that thing has seen better days.”
“It still works just fine!” you snap, offended on behalf of your dented, aging, slightly rattling Honda civic. She raises a brow. “It screams when you turn left.”
“It groans,” you correct. “And only in winter.” Chelsea leans in, looking way too delighted while you picked yourself up from the table to sit up straighter. “And winter is here, with that next paycheck you should really get a new car.” You sigh, shoulders sinking because— annoyingly— she’s right.
But you can’t help it.
You’re attached to that stupid car. It was your first big purchase after high school, the thing you saved for through every miserable minimum-wage shift, every extra hour you picked up, every time you resisted food to stash a few more dollars away.
“It’s sentimental,” you mutter, poking at your empty drink. “I practically raised that car.”
Chelsea stares at you.
“It’s dying, babe.”
“It has character.”
“It has medical issues.” You glare.
“You’re rude.”
“I picked it up from the best,” she says, giving you a slow, pointed once-over before winking. “Don’t act shocked, you taught me to be quick with it.” Okay, maybe it was about time to get a new car.
“So… what are you going to do about it?”
“I’ll buy a damn new car,” you grumble, dragging a hand down your face.
Chelsea snorts.
“No— I mean Damian.”
You freeze. Of course that’s what she meant. “What about him?” you ask, already regretting it. Chelsea lifts both brows like she’s about to deliver a divine revelation.
“Well, are you going to shoot your shot…?” You blink.
“What shot?” She just stares at you.
“Look, you’re not that dumb, but you can’t be THAT dumb.”
“There’s absolutely no way,” you insist, shaking your head.
Chelsea throws her hands up before pointing her pretty manicure finger at you. “Babes, you told me what he’s done. It sounded pretty obvious he didn’t like you at first— sure, but clearly there’s something now.”
You pinch the bridge of your nose.
“Chelsea—”
“No, don’t ‘Chelsea’ me. He’s clearly teasing you. He picks you up. He drops you off. He notices when you haven’t eaten. He scolds you for working late. That’s not normal boss behavior. That’s not even barely normal human behavior!”
You blink.
She leans closer, voice lowering conspiratorially.
“It’s playground logic,” she says. “Pulling pigtails to get the girl’s attention. That man is either in love with you… or putting a suspicious amount of effort into someone he claims is ‘just an employee.’”
You fold your arms, leaning toward her, unimpressed and curious all at once.
“Okay, if you’re right. What do you think I should do then?”
Chelsea’s grin spreads slow and wicked, like she’s been waiting for you to ask.
“Babe, I know I am right. What’s your dress-code policy lookin’ like?”
You narrow your eyes at her.
“Don’t say it like that.”
“Oh, I will say it like that,” she fires back immediately, kicking her heel against your chair. “Because if your boss is driving you home, picking you up, buying you coffee, acting all nonchalant like a storm cloud with feelings—”
“He doesn’t have feelings.”
“—then,” she continues loudly, ignoring you, “it is time to… gently nudge the situation.”
You stare. “Gently nudge?”
She lifts her brows.
“Keep up, dummy.” She rolls her eyes. “Wear something that’s not what you’re wearing now.” She gives a pointed look at your cute button-up blouse and slacks. “You need to remind him you’re not just his sleep-deprived assistant who alphabetizes spreadsheets for a living, ya’know.”
You narrow your eyes at her theatrics, but she just lifts her chin smugly.
“A theory?” you echo, suspicious.
She nods, all-knowing, all-smug, infuriatingly Chelsea.
“Mm-hmm. A very important, scientifically proven theory.”
“What theory?”
“That if you dress even slightly hotter than usual,” she says, leaning in like she’s sharing a state secret, “your boss will start to make advancements.”
Your face heats. “He is not—”
“He is,” she interrupts, unfazed. “And I want updates. Detailed ones. Because when I’m right—”
“When,” you repeat flatly.
“When,” she confirms with a decisive nod, “I expect a thank-you gift. Preferably edible. Or expensive.”
You groan into your hands.
She pats your shoulder.
“Don’t worry. It’s just step one.”
“Step one?” you muffle.
“Oh absolutely,” she says, already pulling out her phone. “I’m making a checklist.”
“Okay,” she announces, displaying the screen of a small list. “Step one: act normal, but slightly hotter and slightly busier. Men go insane if they don’t receive attention.”
“I’m literally his assistant. I can’t ‘act busy,’ I am busy.”
“Perfect,” she says brightly with a wide grin. “You’re already a natural!”
You drop your face back into your palms.
“Chelsea, this is a terrible idea.” She leans in until she’s a mere few inches away from your gaze, nose nearly touching your hands.
“But you’re going to do it anyway.”
Your silence betrays you.
Chelsea gasps scandalously.
Loudly. Dramatically. Offensively.
“Oh my god, you’re already thinking about what you’re going to wear!”
“I’m not—!”
“You are,” she sings, grabbing your wrist and shaking it like you’ve won a prize. “This is amazing. I love this for you. I love this for me!”
You yank your hand back, trying and failing to will down the heat in your cheeks.
“This is not a romance novel,” you mutter. “He’s my boss.”
“And he’s driving to your apartment at seven-thirty in the morning to pick you up from overworking,” Chelsea retorts. “Sweetheart, you already skipped half the tropes and went straight into the slow-burn danger zone.”
You stare at her, she’s grinning like she’s narrating your funeral. “Text me tomorrow,” she says, gathering her purse. “And remember: make his jaw drop!” She winks, watching your face twist into a frown.
“You’re welcome in advance.” And like the good friend you were… you listened to her.
The next morning, you woke earlier than usual, the soft glow of dawn just beginning to filter through your curtains. You began your daily routine that made you groan at the crack of dawn, except this time— you carefully sifted through your clothes, weighing options, second-guessing, and finally settling on the outfit that felt just right.
You stood in front of your mirror with your arms crossed, face scrunched up, judging your own reflection with the same intensity Damian reserved for quarterly reports.
After a full minute of squinting, stepping back, stepping forward again, and muttering to yourself like a deranged tailor, you finally picked an outfit that was technically within the dress code.
It wasn’t your usual safe, comfortable, neutral-choice outfit.
You wore an outfit with clean lines, sharp edges, the kind of put-together that didn’t just fit you, instead it looked like it had been waiting for you. The skirt hit exactly where it should, the stockings gave just enough edge to balance the professionalism, sexiness, and confidence without tipping into trying too hard.
Your skin had that annoying, unfair glow too— not the “I slept a full eight hours” kind, but the lived-in, effortless natural appearance. It kinda gave you that youthful look with a charming smile. It was professional but warm. It made you look like someone who knew exactly what they were doing with both their life and their wardrobe, even if you’d spent the last thirty minutes pacing and overthinking every choice.
You told yourself it had nothing to do with him.
You were lying to yourself and you knew it.
Especially this morning, when you found yourself running later than usual. You had spent too much time trying to look good, carefully applying a light layer of makeup and a nice lipstick color that felt almost weightless on your skin and blended perfectly. It wasn’t just about professionalism; it was about feeling confident in your own skin.
Then there was the traffic. Slow, frustrating, testing your patience at every turn. This was exactly why you usually came in early— to avoid moments like this.
Today is going to be different.
It already felt different.
You clutched your bag a little tighter as you walked through the halls, acutely aware of the way heads subtly turned your way. The usual hum of the office seemed to shift around you, as if your presence had suddenly carved out a new kind of attention— one you weren’t quite used to but didn’t entirely dislike.
A few compliments floated your way, especially from the friendly female coworkers you often chatted with, all emphasizing how great your outfit looked.
“You look amazing today! Who are you trying to impress?”You shook your head with a laugh that escaped.
“Date tonight? You’re glowing!”
“I’ve never seen you in a skirt before! You look good!” Clearly, you were doing something right.
Yet, beneath the surface, your mind was racing, waiting for Damian’s reaction. You told yourself to follow Chelsea’s advice— play it cool and don’t give him any obvious attention. That should be simple enough, right? But the anticipation buzzed quietly in your chest, making it hard to focus on anything else.
You made your way down the hallway toward your office, the soft morning light filtering through the windows and casting long shadows across the floor. Your heart fluttered just a bit faster with every step, the nerves mixing with the rush of the new day ahead. The usual hum of early activity filled the air. The quiet chatter, the clatter of keyboards waking up, and the faint hiss of the coffee machine from the break room.
“Alright, time to get to work,” you muttered under your breath, already mentally bracing yourself for the long day ahead.
Your fingers wrapped around the cool metal of the doorknob as you pushed the door open.
Only to freeze mid-motion when you spotted the figure inside.
Damian was there, leaning casually against the edge of the desk, a cup of coffee in one hand, his sharp eyes fixed on you with that familiar unreadable expression.
He didn’t bother to hide his surprise or disapproval as his gaze flicked to the clock on the wall behind him before snapping back to you.
“You’re late.”
The words hung in the air, low and deliberate, cutting through the quiet hum of the office as if he’d been waiting for this moment all along.
His gaze briefly flickers to your outfit before meeting your eyes again.
You frowned, glancing at the time on your phone.
“I’m not even late, I just came in a bit later than usual.”
He lets out a quiet, almost amused sigh, the corners of his mouth twitching like he’s fighting a smirk.
“Later than usual still counts as late,” he mumbled, but there was a subtle shift in his voice. Less of a reprimand, more of a teasing edge that made it clear he wasn’t really mad.
“Are you going to fire me over it?” You raised a brow.
“…No, but do you have the documents I asked you to review before my next meeting?” His tone was calm, laced with that usual professionalism.
You nodded slowly, pressing your lips together as a familiar ache settled in your chest. There was disappointment, and something deeper that’s unspoken.
That quiet hope you’d been nursing quietly unraveled, leaving behind a sting of frustration that simmered just beneath the surface.
You fought the urge to let it show, burying the mix of longing and irritation behind a controlled expression as the silence stretched between you.
“Uh, yeah, it’s in the drawers in my desk, let me hand it to you.” You replied, moving around your desk and quietly pulled out the documents that’s given to him immediately.
Damian took the stack without looking away, his grip firm but not unkind. The faint rustle of the papers felt loud in the stillness between you. For a moment, you both stood there. He focused on the documents while you watched the subtle lines around his mouth soften just a fraction. It was small, almost invisible, but it made your chest tighten in a way you could not quite explain.
“I’ll review these now,” he comments, voice low and steady. “Make sure nothing is overlooked.”
You nodded, suddenly feeling the weight of the morning settle on your shoulders, relief and that quiet, stubborn hope that maybe, just maybe, he noticed more than just the paperwork today.
Without another word, he turned on his heel and walked out of the office, the door closing softly behind him.
Well, okay… fuck you too, I guess.
You slump into your chair, crossing your arms tightly while you lean back against your chair.
Why does he act like he doesn’t notice, yet does all these little things that say otherwise?
Like the way he always somehow knows your coffee order, or the way he holds the door without a word, takes you home and picks you up from your apartment to arrive at work together before anyone else,
You bite your lip, frustrated and confused. You want to ignore him, to stop caring so much, but it’s like he’s woven into the edges of your day whether you like it or not.
Maybe that’s the worst part.
“Men go insane if they don’t receive attention.”
Chelsea’s voice rang out in your head.
Hmph. Okay.
If there’s one thing Damian knew, it was this.
You were filled with spite.
Spite that rivaled his own.
Damian walked into your office again, the quiet sound of his footsteps sharp enough that you knew it was him before you even looked.
Not that you did look.
He carried the documents he’d reviewed, the ones covered in his perfectly neat handwriting. Normally, you would have glanced up. Maybe rolled your eyes. Maybe muttered something under your breath. Anything.
But not today.
Today, your spite had a bit of purpose.
You kept your attention fixed on your monitor, staring at a screen full of the usual information. Your schedule. A few reports. His own schedule, and a spreadsheet you’d already finished hours ago. You weren’t even pretending to work well— just clicking occasionally, scrolling through nothing.
You didn’t look at him.
You didn’t greet him.
You didn’t acknowledge him.
“Just set them down,” you swat your hand in the air calmly, voice flat and professional. “I’ll look over them and send next week’s project to your email. And the financial reports.”
You didn’t turn.
You didn’t give him a single glance.
You just kept staring at the monitor like he was irrelevant.
You could feel him pause beside the desk, like he was expecting you to react.
You didn’t.
Good.
Let him feel it.
Let him choke on it.
You clicked your mouse once, the smallest little sound, but in the silence of your office it felt loud. Almost pointed.
He set the documents on your desk carefully, almost too carefully, as if waiting for you to turn your head.
You didn’t.
Your heart was pounding, but your face stayed neutral. Your posture stayed still. Your eyes stayed glued to the screen. The stubborn part of you reveled in the fact that Damian Wayne, of all people, was just… standing there, trying to figure you out.
“You will have them done by the end of the day?” he asked, his tone cool but edged with something else. Something you weren’t used to hearing from him.
Irritation?
Annoyance?
Confusion?
Good.
“Of course,” you said, still not looking at him. “That’s my job, isn’t it?”
You heard him inhale very quietly, the smallest break in his composure.
For the first time, you realized something.
He didn’t like being ignored.
Not by you.
You could feel him lingering in your peripheral vision, the way someone stands in a doorway when they aren’t done with a conversation. Except you weren’t giving him the satisfaction of acknowledging it. You clicked again, scrolling through a report you had already memorized.
You could almost picture his expression without looking.
Brows drawn just a touch.
Mouth pressed into a thin line.
That proud, composed, annoyingly perfect face trying to figure out what exactly you were doing.
Good.
Let him think.
You kept your posture straight and your breathing even, even though your heart thudded a little harder with every second he didn’t walk away. Normally, you would have caved by now— just a glance, just a look.
Something.
But Chelsea’s voice was louder.
Men go insane if they don’t receive attention.
He exhaled quietly. You could feel his patience wearing thin, like the air itself tightened.
“You usually provide updates when I walk in,” Damian said, tone smooth but laced with something sharper.
“Are you not doing that today?” You moved your mouse, opening another tab, to click into your email.
You did not even blink in his direction.
“My updates will be in your inbox once everything is finalized,” you said in the same neutral, pleasant tone used with distant coworkers. “You’ll have them before noon, Mr. Wayne.”
A beat of silence, he was absolutely staring at you.
You could feel it.
The weight of it warmed the side of your face, heavy and irritated and trying to cut through your indifference.
“You seem…” His voice paused for a split second, almost like he was choosing the word.
“Preoccupied.”
You nearly smirked.
Nearly.
Instead, you let out the smallest hum of acknowledgement and said, “Just focused on work.”Your silence after that was deliberate. It was something Damian had felt when you began working here, and now it was back.
It was clean and sharp enough to make something in him twitch. For a man who commanded rooms, who intimidated CEOs twice his age, who was used to precise attention at all times… Being dismissed by you hit differently.
You could practically feel it.
He shifted his weight.
You heard the faint rustle of his suit jacket as he straightened, something colder slipping into his composure.
“Fine,” he said quietly. “I will expect the email.” There it was— that clipped tone he only used when something actually annoyed him.
He walked toward the door.
The sound of his steps was sharper this time.
More pointed.
But right before he left, he hesitated.
Just for half a heartbeat.
As if waiting for you to turn.
You didn’t move.
The door opened.
Closed.
And you finally let yourself breathe, jaw tight with a mixture of triumph and nerves.
Okay.
So ignoring Damian Wayne actually worked.
And that little discovery warmed you with the most satisfying, petty spark of victory.
You really did have things to handle. Your inbox was already overflowing with messages from partner companies, potential investors, a few overeager rivals, and the usual crowd of people who suddenly decided they “urgently” needed a meeting with Damian Wayne. You sifted through each request, drafting replies, rerouting calls, flagging anything even remotely suspicious.
If nothing else, it kept your hands busy.
It kept your eyes on the monitor.
And most importantly, it kept your attention away from him.
Except.
You see Damian Wayne’s email sitting at the very top, stamped with a fresh timestamp that tells you he sent it less than a minute ago.
Of course he did.
The room feels a little too quiet all of a sudden. You hover your cursor over the subject line, debating with yourself like the fate of Gotham depends on whether or not you open a single email.
But your pulse betrays you anyway.
DAMIAN WAYNE
Subject: Regarding the Adjusted Projection Report
Your amended notes are missing from page 14. Correct this and send the updated file before noon. You also forgot to attach the preliminary figures for the Q4 meeting. Re-send.
YOU
Re: Regarding the Adjusted Projection Report
Mr. Wayne, I’ll have the updated file on your desk before noon. The missing attachment will be included.
DAMIAN WAYNE
Re: Regarding the Adjusted Projection Report
Have them by my office an hour from now.
Your stomach drops. Your irritation flares. And something traitorous inside you sparks to life. And being the petty person you are, you did exactly what you were supposed to do.
You compiled the missing files, fixed the notes on page 14, double-checked the preliminary figures, then triple-checked them, because if you were going to be petty, you were at least going to be professionally petty. You formatted everything in the crisp, immaculate style you knew Damian preferred: every header perfectly styled, every section labeled, every graph aligned down to the pixel because God forbid you accidentally offend his sense of order.
Fine. He wanted flawless? You’d give him flawless.
With nothing else left to tweak, you stacked the pages, tapped the spine against your desk to neaten the edges, and slid the packet into a folder. A neat folder. A purposely nicer folder than the one he usually gave you.
You grabbed your things and stepped out of your office, heels clicking down the hall in a steady, determined rhythm. The Wayne Enterprises floor was quiet at this hour— most people had gone for lunch, leaving only the echo of distant printers and the hum of central air vibrating through the walls.
You rounded the corner toward Damian’s office, folder in hand, ready to slam it onto his desk with the polite professionalism of someone who absolutely was being petty and absolutely refused to acknowledge it.
But something shifted in the corner of your vision.
A familiar figure stepped out of the stairwell, head bowed over a tablet, moving with the kind of restless focus that suggested he hadn’t slept in three days.
Tim- ‘F’ucking- Drake.
Sometimes you ran into him in the café on the first floor, where he’d already be two coffees deep and debating whether a third was “necessary or just responsible.” Other times, you’d cross paths when Damian sent you to drop something off for him, because— according to Damian, seeing Tim’s face could “derail the productivity of an entire day.”
Dramatic much? Yes.
Always. Every single time.
Tim, on the other hand, never seemed bothered. If anything, he’d take the file with a blink, a grateful nod, and then immediately forget to breathe while reading it. One time you were pretty sure he walked into an elevator door while scrolling through an email.
IT also adored him.
Half the departments relied on him. He had an office here but never seemed to actually use it. And today, based on the speed he was walking straight toward Damian’s area, he was clearly on some kind of mission.
You slowed just slightly.
His gaze flicked to you, then paused, brow lifting in mild surprise.
“Oh— hey,” he said, offering a small, apologetic smile. His eyes dipped once, taking in your outfit, and he actually registered it. “You look really nice today, the skirt looks good.” He chuckles, which you replied with a coy smile.
“Thank you, it’s been a while since I’ve seen you around, Tim!” You smiled brightly.
At least someone in this building had functioning eyeballs.
“Yeah, I’ve been busy lately.” He hums, “Damian around? I need to drop something off and—” he looks at the folder in your hands.
The universe practically handed you the moment on a silver platter. “Yeah, he’s in his office.” You replied, having a plan already forming within your head. “I’ve actually got some documents for him.”
Tim nodded, stepping closer. “Want me to take them? I’m going straight there and you’re his personal assistant, right? You probably have better things to do than babysitting that kid.”
You laughed, “you don’t say?”
He chuckled under his breath, the tired kind that said he understood exactly what you had to deal with. You didn’t hesitate to give him the folder.
Not even half a second.
You placed the folder into his hands with a soft, grateful smile, one that hid the mild, sparkling pettiness coiling in your chest.
“Thank you, Tim.” He accepted it with the solemn responsibility of someone who absolutely did not realize the chaos he was about to deliver.
“Of course, anytime!”
And somewhere, in his office, Damian Wayne was probably waiting, expecting your knock, anticipating your appearance, ready to critique your delivery or your timing or your skirt or your existence—
Only for his brother to walk in instead.
You remembered turning back to your office, going back to your daily tasks and answering a phone call.
“Wayne Enterprises, this is the office of Mr. Damian Wayne. How can I help you?” The caller launched into a pitch about a potential collaboration, some sleek new product they believed could be mutually beneficial. You took notes, asked the right questions, nodded along even though they couldn’t see you.
By the time you hung up, your head was already drifting back toward your inbox, another email from a vendor, a reminder for next week’s meeting, and three new calendar changes—
A soft knock hit your door.
It wasn’t Damian’s solid, impatient rhythm.
It wasn’t security.
You looked up just as Tim Drake slipped inside, easing the door shut behind him like he was afraid of startling you, or maybe afraid of being seen. He moved with that deliberate quietness he always had, but this time something in his posture was different. His shoulders were too tight.
His mouth twitched like he was holding back commentary.
His expression said he had something to say and definitely something you would want to hear. “Hey,” he greeted, stepping in a little further. His voice carried a strange mixture of sympathy and amusement, as if he had walked straight into a soap opera and was still processing the plot twist.
“So… I delivered your files.” You raised an eyebrow, leaning back ever so slightly in your chair.
“Yeah? And?” Tim inhaled sharply, the way someone does before delivering bad news wrapped in entertainment, pinching the bridge of his nose.
Then he started laughing.
Not loudly, it was just that soft, incredulous laugh of someone who’d just witnessed pure, distilled bullshit and needed a moment.
“He was not amused,” Tim said finally.
You blinked. “Define not amused.”
“Oh, you know.” He waved a hand in the air. “Classic Damian. He gave me the look.”
“The… look?”
“He was both offended and confused.” You felt heat prick the back of your neck.
“Well,” you said, turning back to your computer as if you were totally unfazed, “maybe he should’ve specified how he wanted the files delivered.”
Tim leaned against the wall, studying you with that annoying detective perceptiveness he was born with.“No wonder why you’ve given me your files, for someone trying very hard not to care,” he said, rocking back and forth at the heel of his dress shoes.
“You are enjoying this a little too much.” You scoffed at Tim. “I’m not enjoying anything. I’m working.” He snorted at your response. “Sure. And I didn’t watch Damian stare at that folder like it personally betrayed him.” Your heart thudded but you kept your expression flat.
Tim shook his head, still amused.
“Whatever’s going on between you two… I don’t want to know,” he said with a little grimace. “But I do feel obligated to tell you that he told me— very coldly, very dramatically— to ‘inform his assistant she is expected to deliver important documents directly.’”
“Oh, he said that?”
“Word for word.” You let out a slow breath, releasing a very slow, very smug breath.
“Huh,” you murmured, eyes returning to your screen.
“Sounds like a him problem.”
Tim chuckled under his breath as he pushed off the wall.“For a personal assistant I’m surprised you’ve lasted this long, you’re driving him insane,” he laughs, heading for the door while you didn’t bother to look up, but you smiled when the door shuts.
DAMIAN WAYNE
Subject: Incompetence
You forwarded the documents through Timothy. Why? If you are capable of delivering them yourself, then do so. If you are not, inform me so I can make the appropriate adjustments to your workflow.
Confirm you received this.
You stared at the screen for a moment, feeling your pulse flicker between irritation and… something far less dignified. The man had the emotional intelligence of a cinder block, yet here he was, typing sentences that made you feel like you were being called into the principal’s office and dragged behind the bleachers at the same time.
Chelsea would call it a toxic cocktail.
You called it Tuesday.
Your fingers hovered above the keyboard before you slowly began to type your response.
YOU
Re: Incompetence
Received. Sent the files through Timothy because he was already going to your office. It was efficient for the both of us. Let me know if you have any other concerns regarding the workflow.
DAMIAN WAYNE
Re: Incompetence
Your definition of efficiency is questionable. Next time, deliver the documents yourself. I expect accuracy and consistency, not shortcuts. Report to my office in ten minutes. We need to review the adjustments together.
YOU
Re: Incompetence
You have a meeting in ten minutes. I’m busy, my schedule is booked out the entire week.
DAMIAN WAYNE
Subject: That Was Not a Request
You will make time. You have 5 minutes to get here.
The cursor blinked at the bottom of the screen, taunting you. Five minutes. Not ten. Not politely asking. A downgrade. A summons. You could practically hear the clipped irritation in every word.“Unbelievable,” you muttered, grabbing your tablet. “Now he wants to act like I’m late twice in one morning.”
You stood, smoothing down your skirt, steadying your breath, choosing professionalism over the urge to slam your forehead into the desk repeatedly.“Fine,” you said to the empty room. “If he wants a meeting, he’s going to get the most unbothered, least impressed version of me alive.”
And with that, you stepped out of your office, spine straight, chin high, fully prepared to make Damian Wayne question every life choice that led him to ordering you around in five-minute intervals. You walked down the hall with purpose, your heels clicking firmly against the polished floor, each step echoing your determination. The usual flutter of nerves twisted in your chest, but you shoved it aside.
Damian wanted your attention? He was going to get it on your terms.
As you approached his office, the door stood slightly ajar, the faint aroma of leather and coffee drifting out. You paused for a brief second, smoothing your blouse, making sure you looked every bit the professional, confident, composed, and untouchable. You stepped inside without knocking. Damian looked up from the sleek glass desk, his sharp eyes briefly scanning you before narrowing ever so slightly, an unreadable expression on his face.
“Five minutes,” he said, voice low but steady. No anger, no impatience, just that razor-sharp control you both knew too well. You nodded once, crossing your arms. “I’m here. What’s the emergency?”
His gaze flickered to the screen, then back to you. “Your revisions on the Q4 projection report. There are discrepancies in the sales figures for three key markets.” You raised a brow, already prepared with a mental list of where things might have gone sideways. “I triple-checked those. Unless you want to explain what you found, I don’t see the problem.”
Damian smirked, the faintest lift of his lips betraying his amusement. “I’m not here to argue. I’m here to make sure you’re not missing something.”
Something about the way he said it. It was calm, controlled, but not dismissive. It softened the edge of your frustration. You almost wanted to remind yourself to stop overthinking it.
Almost.
Instead, you pulled up the file on your tablet, ready to dive back into the numbers, ignoring the quiet thrum of something unspoken hanging between you. You tapped through the pages, fingers steady despite the fluttering in your chest. Damian watched you closely, leaning back in his chair with that same unreadable expression, as if waiting to catch you slipping.
“Here,” you said, pointing to the figures that didn’t line up. “This market’s revenue was recorded late, which threw off the totals. I flagged it in the notes, but it looks like your version missed that.”
He leaned forward, scanning your screen carefully.
“I see. Good catch.” The brief praise caught you off guard. He can compliment your work but not your fucking outfit—
“Is that it?” You said in the most infuriating tone ever, a leak of poison lying underneath it.
Damian quirked a brow.
“Is there something else you want to say?”
Oh, this infuriating man.
“No, sir,” you say firmly, trying to keep your irritation in check. Without a word, Damian rises and crosses the room with purposeful strides. He stops just in front of you, leaning casually against his desk with his arms folded, his eyes locked on yours.
“No, really,” he insists, voice low but laced with that unmistakable challenge. “Say it. I’m waiting.” You glare up at him, the frustration bubbling just beneath your skin.
You think back to all the little things he’s done. All those moments you tried to dismiss as nothing more than duty or habit, yet they added up— small cracks in the fortress he built around himself.
Say it? Say what? How maddening he is? How crazy does he makes you feel?
How every little thing he’s done, every unexpected coffee, every silent check-in, every begrudging act of care has tangled up your thoughts and emotions into a frustrating knot you can’t quite unravel. You want to blow up at him for making you feel like you’re under a microscope one moment, and the next, like you’re the only person who matters in his whole damn world.
You want to shout at him for how his sharp gaze can cut through your defenses, leaving you exposed and scrambling to catch your breath, yet somehow, it also holds a softness that drives you crazy because it’s so rare, so fleeting. You want to scream at him for the way he invades your thoughts when you least expect it, like the memory of a red scarf he wrapped around your neck, so unexpectedly gentle it made your skin burn with warmth, or the mysterious lunches that somehow felt like silent apologies or unspoken promises.
You want to tell him how unfair it is that he can act so cold and detached while making your heart race like you’re the most important person in the room. How annoying it is that despite every sharp word, every sarcastic barb, you find yourself wanting him to notice, to care, to see beyond the suit and the stoic facade.
“It’s—”
But most of all, you want to tell him that he’s become this impossible puzzle you can’t stop trying to solve, even if it’s driving you mad.
“Say it.”
And you’re absolutely sick of it.
You are sick of the way he pushes, prodding at you like a stubborn wound that won’t heal. The tension is thick in the air, every word a battle you don’t want to fight but somehow can’t avoid.
“You are—” you start, voice tight with frustration. He cuts you off with a slow, deliberate sigh that feels like it’s dragging the weight of the entire world. “Say it, right now.” He demands, eyes sharp and unblinking, daring you to defy him.
Fine.
You grit your teeth, trying to keep your voice steady, though it trembles with the effort it takes to keep everything inside from spilling out.
“I am trying to best to say it! Mr. Wayne, please, you’re so—” He raises a hand, silencing you without a word.
“No, that’s wrong, I’m not going to listen if you don’t say it.”
Say what?!?!! You’re absolutely done with Damian Wayne, the way he gets under your skin.
“Mr. Wa—”
“Wrong.”
Done with his cold, infuriating way of twisting your feelings into knots, like some cruel game only he knew the rules to.
“Fucking— eat shit, Damian!”
The words ripped out of your mouth, raw and unapologetic, carrying every ounce of frustration and anger you had held inside for far too long. They lingered between you, heavy and electric, like a spark igniting a fire that had been smoldering beneath the surface. It was a release, a challenge, and maybe the first honest thing you had said aloud in weeks.
You whipped around, determined to leave before your emotions could spiral into something even more reckless. Your chest felt tight, burning with a mixture of disappointment and hurt that you hadn’t allowed yourself to fully acknowledge. But before you could put space between you, his hand shot out and closed firmly around your wrist.
He pulled you back with quiet, steady strength. It was enough to stop you but never enough to cause pain. Slowly, deliberately, he turned you to face him.
His grip was warm and unyielding, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your skin prickle. Usually, his gaze was sharp and distant, but now it was something different—focused, unreadable, and strangely alive. The cold, controlled expression you expected softened just enough to reveal a small, almost smug smirk. It was the kind of smirk that said he was both amused and pleased by your outburst.
“Took you long enough to say my name,” he murmured, his voice low and edged with something like satisfaction, as if your words were exactly what he’d been waiting for all along.
Your breath caught. Excuse me?
“You wanted me to say your name?” you snap, incredulous, heat rising under your skin. “That’s what this was about?” You try to yank your hand back, fueled by a spark of irritation beneath the haze of desire, but he doesn’t let go.
His grip tightens just enough to stop you, not enough to trap you, his thumb brushing the inside of your wrist in slow, steady circles that make your anger stutter. “Don’t twist my words,” he says, gaze steady, unflinching. “But yes.” His voice softens, becomes something quieter, more dangerous. “Hearing you say my name like that…” His eyes hold yours, burning.
“I’ve wanted that for a long time.” Your heart skips, the fight in you wavering. “You’re unbelievable,” you whisper, torn between shoving him away and pulling him back in.
“You unravel me,” he cuts the tension, his fingers ghosting over your clenched hand, gentle but insistent. His touch was slow, like he was afraid to break something fragile, yet impossible to pull away from. Carefully, he eased your fingers open, one by one, before weaving his own through yours. His grip was quiet but absolute, as if claiming you wordlessly, without need for permission.
“Every time I told you to drop the titles, to leave the distance between us, you never did.” His voice was softer now, threading through the space between you like a secret. “You didn’t even realize… how long I’ve been waiting for this. Want you.”
You tried to pull away, heart suddenly thundering in your chest, mind spinning too fast to catch a single thought. But his hand stayed firm around yours, steady and warm, holding you not to restrain you, but to keep you from slipping out of the moment.
“Wait,” he breathed, and the word washed over you like a shiver. His grip wasn’t demanding, just certain. Certain in a way that made your pulse jump.
“Do you know you make me insane?” The words left him low, almost ragged, like he’d been holding them back for far too long. His gaze pinned you in place, sharp enough to cut through every layer you tried to hide behind. And the way he stood so close, his cologne wrapping around you in a rich, intoxicating warmth, made it impossible to pretend you weren’t affected.
You glared at him, a rush of heat blooming in your chest, a mixture of anger and something more tangled.
“Well, good,” you snapped, voice trembling despite yourself. “Maybe now you understand how it feels.”He didn’t let go. “No,” he murmured, low and rough, “I know exactly how it feels.” His eyes darkened, shadowed with something deeper than frustration or desire— something raw and aching.
“You walk into a room, and everything shifts. The air tightens around me, like a storm rolling in, and I can’t catch my breath.” He exhaled softly, as if confessing a truth too dangerous to hold inside any longer. “You wear your confidence like a second skin, like it’s as natural as breathing.” His gaze dropped for a moment down to your lips, then snapped back, sharp and consuming.
“And you think… you think I don’t notice?”
You face in a different direction, overwhelmed by the intensity burning in his gaze. But he leaned closer— just enough so that his breath warmed your cheek, sending a shiver down your spine. “You think I don’t notice the way your skirts sway when you walk, just enough to unbalance me. The stockings that catch the light, like they were made to break me. The way you move, commanding every eye without even trying.” His thumb traced a slow, deliberate path along your knuckles— tender and sure.
“You undo me.” he whispered, voice thick with something almost vulnerable. You tried again to pull your hand free, desperation flickering in your movements, but his fingers tightened around yours, firm, steady, and grounding. “With every step you take, every glance you try to hide, and every breath you draw like it’s meant for someone else. You think you slip by unnoticed—” He swallowed hard, eyes locking with yours, raw and unguarded.
“But you don’t.” His voice was a breath, a confession hanging in the space between you.
“You make a liar of everything I thought I knew about myself.”
You stand there, heart hammering so loud you’re sure he can hear it, breath catching and unsteady. The room feels impossibly small now, like the space between you has been carved down to this one fragile moment.
His eyes flicker down, tracing the curve of your lips, hesitant but drawn.
The air thickens between you.
“Would you allow me to kiss you?” he breathes, barely more than a question, but charged with everything he’s held back until now.
Your eyes flicker downward for a brief moment, then back up, meeting him again.
Slowly, almost imperceptibly, you give the faintest nod, a silent surrender that speaks volumes.
His fingers tighten around yours with a gentle yet possessive grip, grounding you. With his other hand, he reaches up, fingers brushing along your cheek before cradling your jaw with careful reverence, thumb tracing small circles that send a shiver through you. The warmth of his touch contrasts with the cool air around you, anchoring you to the moment.
Then, with deliberate, breathtaking slowness, he leans in. His lips hover just over yours for a heartbeat longer. It was soft, tentative, and reverent— before they finally meet yours in a brush of warmth and promise. The kiss is gentle but shattering, breaking down every wall you built, every doubt you held, leaving only the raw, undeniable truth between you both.
Then, his hand tightens on your jaw, tilting your face just so, as if commanding you to surrender, to feel everything he’s held inside. The intensity builds gradually, like a rising tide, each breath mingling, each movement deliberate and fierce.
Your heart hammers, your breath hitches, and his touch sends a shiver that steals what little air you have left. It’s a kiss that is deep, urgent, impossible to ignore, like he’s pouring every ounce of longing, frustration, and desire into this one perfect moment.
“Damian—” you gasp, barely able to get the word out as your breath catches in your throat. You try to pull away, desperate for air, but he’s faster, more urgent.
His hand slips from your fingers and moves with a firm, confident grip to your waist. Before you can steady yourself, he shifts you effortlessly, pressing you back against the desk that a few pens slip from his desk, laying on important papers that Damian didn’t care about at this moment. The sudden motion makes your knees wobble, a rush of dizziness swirling through you, but there’s no room for doubt or hesitation in this moment— only the overwhelming euphoria of his lips claiming yours again.
Your back arches slightly against the cool surface of the desk, every nerve igniting with electricity. Each breath is stolen and returned, shared between you as his kiss deepens, becoming more urgent, more intense. The world tilts and spins around you, overwhelmed by the raw heat of his touch.
His hands move with purpose, sliding up from your waist to hold you closer, anchoring you as if you might float away. Your fingers tangle in the soft strands of his hair, pulling him nearer, matching the hunger in his kiss.
You don’t remember the exact moment the kiss ended, only that when it did, you were left utterly breathless.
Your chest heaved, every inhale shallow and desperate, and you were certain you looked wild, your lips flushed and trembling from the way he kept chasing for them.
But Damian— he looked even more undone.
Damian looked worse off than you. His usual composed mask was shattered, replaced by a raw, almost vulnerable expression. His dark eyes were half-lidded, glazed with an unspoken hunger and something softer, maybe wonder, and maybe relief. His breathing was heavy, each breath a sharp intake that seemed to shake his entire frame.
Your lipstick was smeared across his mouth, a vivid stain that made his usual cold demeanor melt away. A few strands of his hair hung over his forehead, disheveled and rebellious, like the moment had stolen every last piece of control from him.
His fingers traced a slow line down your arm, thumb brushing lightly.
“I was beginning to think your spite would never stop pretending you didn’t want this.”
You met his gaze, fierce and honest.
“Maybe I was just waiting for you to admit it first, Mr. Wayne.”
Your tone was teasing, light, deliberately provoking. And it worked. His brows pulled together immediately, a sharp, irritated frown that would’ve been funny if your heart wasn’t pounding.
“Do not say that.”
The words weren’t raised, but they carried heat.
They carried want.
“Then what do you prefer?”
You tilted your head, pretending innocence, even though you both knew exactly what you were doing.
His glare deepened, steady and pointed, the kind meant to pin you in place. Not angry— not even close. Just frustrated that you were still playing when he was already past pretending.
He held your gaze for a long, heavy moment, eyes dark with meaning.
And in that silence, it was so clear:
He wanted to hear his name from your mouth.
Not the title.
Not the formality.
Him.
Only him.
He leaned in again, voice just above a whisper.
“You know patience was never my strong suit.”
“I know,” you mumbled, your thumb smudging the lipstick smear a little further with a small smile.
“You look good in this color, Damian.”
His eyes flickered over your face, lingering on your mouth, then dropping briefly to your hand still resting against his jaw.
Your name left his lips like a warning and a plea all at once.
“Do not say things like that unless you intend to finish what you started.”
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a/n: how we feel about this banger, my phone could barely handle 18k words ngl 🥹 but this was so fun to make, it was genuinely 4-5 days straight writing this out because I had so much ideas ! And miniskirt was the inspiration to write it out! And the BANTER?? I just knew I wanted A LOT OF BANTER in this oneshot, you guys have to let me know your favorite part, because I LOVE LOVEEEE the part/line when they started going back and forth with lies about each other at the company party!!!
WARNING FOR THIS CHAPTER: Mentions of AboXXtion. And Drug use.
Inspiration: For the height scene I do want to make a big shout out to another author slowwolverine (taokitime) (Both on Tumblr and Ao3) who wrote the fanfiction stardust with its sequel series Orionis. She had added a measuring height scene in her story, and I thought it was an interesting take. It’s still completely different scene from hers but I believed it was right to give credit where credit is due, I have also requested permission from them on Tumblr and if I don’t get a response before I post this chapter, I’ll keep the scene in. If I do get a response and they ask me not to use the scene I will be removing it out of respect for them! And if you haven’t go and check out their stories cause they’re beautifully written!
Read on AO3 HERE
Word count: 7.2K
Chapter 5 - Chapter 7
Chapter 6- First day out. (Sorry not the forest yet, I was yapping)
After meeting Grace in her avatar form, she promptly kicked all our asses back to the lab, to get thoroughly checked out to ensure that nothing was wrong. Norm caught up to us breathing hard, and Grace threw another fruit at him, but unfortunately, he was still breathing heavily and was prepared to catch it and as it landed in his fumbling hands he overcorrected and smashed the fruit right on his face. Both Jake and I winced at him, but Norm just licked his lips and let out the same groan of appreciation to the fruit, thanking the great mother for this creation as I myself did.
and when we returned to the lab lying in wait was a pissed off Max and a smiling Malu. If it wasn’t the scowl on Max’s face you could tell he wasn’t happy as his Mask kept fogging up as he roughly took in breaths. I winced at the sight, I do feel a little bad as none of us ended up following orders or instructions of the lab medics and possibly could’ve damaged the avatars which cost millions of dollars to make, but considering that we are the only ones who can use them I don’t think they can fire us. I hope.
Before Max can say anything though Malu runs forward and throws herself at my legs, she wraps her arms around my knees as her head only comes to my mid-thigh and I utterly melt at the sight. I immediately drop down to my knees, but I still tower over her as I wrap her in my arms careful of the strength of my avatar and pull her into me and stand up. Her eyes widen in shock as she looks down towards the ground and then back to my face, her tiny hands come up to both my cheeks and squeeze slightly making me laugh and I turn my head slightly to blow a raspberry into her palm causing her to squeal.
Jake comes over to the two of us and places a hand on Malu’s head ruffling her hair slightly but being careful of the mask, even though his hand is almost the size of her skull which causes both their eyes to widen.
“Yeah, absolutely no roughhousing with your uncle in his avatar form.” I say thinking about all the play fighting the two of them used to get up to back on earth.
“Nah, I reckon she could still take me down.” Jake counters my argument and does some jabs in the air around Malu who laughs brightly towards her uncle.
Malu looks straight into my eyes and signs the word ‘Pretty’ towards me, as I watch her eyes rank over my face as if to apply it all to her memory as much as she has done over the years with my human face.
“Do you three understand, how irresponsible, reckless and downright dangerous that was!” Max yelled throwing his hands in the air, I heard Norm wince and turn his head to the floor rubbing his hands together in his typical nervous fashion.
But of course, Jake just snorted with hands on his Hips, and I turned to him with an eyebrow raised, to try and convey without words. ‘Please kindly shut the fuck up,’
Max froze at hearing Jakes snort, and both Norm and I took a tentative step backwards, listen I know I say Sully’s stick together, but just this once Jakes on his own.
Max stomped right up to Jake, and I had to keep the snort in my throat held so tightly as I looked at the scientist compared to Jakes hulking Avatar form. Which leads me to eyeing off Norm next to me who is at least half a foot taller than me, in retrospect it doesn’t feel any different in our human forms.
“I get that this is all new to you Jake, but you need to respect the doctors and the scientists that are here. We’re here to keep you safe, but what you did also put them at risk! What if someone wasn’t wearing their mask when you opened the door, You had zero control over your tail and knocked over multiple pieces of expensive and vital equipment and you could have seriously hurt someone!” Max lets out a breath of frustration towards the end and goes to rub at his temples and groans at frustration because he can’t cause of the mask.
Jakes ears droop down and the smile drops from his face, his tail also falling from the once giddy swinging to a low mournful sway. “I’m sorry, I just- I’m sorry Max.” Jake drops his head down, obviously feeling guilty about not thinking things through first, and I take a step forward placing a hand on his bicep as I move Malu to my other arm.
“Max, I think we all were feeling excited and overwhelmed, I’m sure Jake’s not the first Driver to get overexcited and certainly won’t be the last.[LP1] Were back now so lets run all the proper tests so that we all can go explore the avatar play centre they got out there.” I let out a laugh and gave Jakes arm a tight squeeze, just to let him know that I am here and I support him, he reaches out with the same arm wrapping his hand around my forearm and gives me a smile and a squeeze. Malu reaches over from her perch in my right arm placing both her hands over Jakes and even with both hands it barley covers half of it, and smiles towards the both of us.
Max sighs and rubs the back of his neck looking up to the ceiling, praying that it may give him the strength he needs in this moment.
“You’re not wrong, but we can’t let this happen again Jake, you have to listen to us otherwise they might just ground you.” Max points directly at Jake who audibly gulps and gives him a salute and nods at him, Max sighs again and calls for Malu to follow him back into the comforts of the Link room so they don’t have to continue to use the exopacks. I give her a quick kiss on the head, which she returns one on the cheek and gestures for Jake to come to her level so she can give him one two which he happily agrees to. Malu turns to Norm giving him two big thumbs up and a grin and Norm returns the gesture.
Jake, Norm and I then get resettled on the gurneys with a group of extremely pissed off medics, who all keep side eying Jake, as if waiting for his next runaway attempt and giving wide berth to his overly energic tail. I can’t say it’s much different for my own tail, as I can barely keep in my own excitement. As I look to my right to see my daughter next to Max, who has happily donned her own lab coat along with identification page and notebook at the ready. I can’t help but wonder, about what Malu would be doing if the program said we couldn’t bring her, would we even have left earth? Would I see my daughter being as happy as she is now, surrounded by science and all the things Tommy and I have been teaching and showing her over the years. Would one of us have gone to Pandora while the other stayed with our daughter, cause the evil little voice in the back of my head is reminding me that the only reason Tommy went out that day was to get something for Malu.
Now I know that’s extremely fucked up, but ADHD is weird like that, you overthink and overanalyse everything that happens and randomly cringe at a conversation you had with someone over 10 years ago because you finally have a good comeback. I don’t blame my daughter for Tommy’s death, I have never felt that way, but I do think about how moments and choices that we make in our lives have such a rippling effect that can span over years.
Like how if my mother got the abortion she wanted, she’d yelled this information at me when I was ten years old and had broken something in the house and the smash woke her up from her drugged induced sleep. The thing that broke was so insignificant that she didn’t even notice it was gone the next day, but her words cut deep. I didn’t even know what an abortion was until she yelled it at me.
If she did, I doubt her and my father would’ve married and that would mean Phoenix never would’ve been born either, or Malu. Makes me wonder what now would look like if neither of us were here, would it be Tommy in Jakes place or would Tommy still have died and Jake continued on to Pandora just by himself, would he have ever been paralysed. This unfortunately is just how my brain is wired and since in my Avatar form, even with all my research I wasn’t going to be testing out my medication for my ADHD in my avatar. Plus, I decided not to take it in my human body worried that it would mess with the mind link, so my brain is definitely feeling extra spicy today.
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Once we had all properly been checked out by the medics in the lab and had been cleared to all be in perfect health, both physically and mentally, (debatable on that front) well from the front of our mind link was solid and stable, and showed no signs of failing. We were allowed to get changed into some Avatar sized human clothing, I found myself smiling as I happened to find a marron Harvard cropped top(Similar to Grace’s Stanford) , Black combat boots which I lace up tightly in hopes that it doesn’t come loose and I trip again, and some black cargo pants which had a hole with a button for our tails to sit in.
I can’t help but marvel at the sight of my tail as I stand alone in the woman’s change rooms and I just think about how I now understand how animals get distracted and start chasing it, like its right there but when you try to spin to get closer you can’t get it. I laugh to myself slightly as I probably look extremely stupid spinning in a quick circle watching my tail. But this body truly is a marvel, like for the first time in my life I have truly defined muscles, that could do some serious damage and suddenly I feel grateful for all the random self-defence and offence training my dad forced on myself before he vanished from my life.
Once I deem myself ready, I had out to the foyer that opens up to the outside base where all the avatars train and the bodies sleep when we are inhabiting them and I can see Max is measuring Norm using a massive measuring tape as he passes down the end of it to Malu who is crouched by Norms own boots, he’s got a pair of light brown pants and a Marron shirt on and has placed a khaki utility vest over it and is holding a cap, I eye the cap for a second noticing that braille lettering on it and see that it spells out 1969-the moon landing most likely. I shake my head at this cause of course Norm would manage to find one of the only hats with a secret nerd scientist meaning.
“Woah Norm, exactly 9feet tall, that’s quite impressive.” Max calls out as he makes a line with a blue pen indicating Norm’s height, he then passes the Pen to norm so he can sign his name above it.
As I allow my gaze to follow along the walls, I can see them riddled with different markers of heights with the owners signing above the line. It’s truly a beautiful thing to behold that all these different people decided that they would leave their home planet to come to another to inhabit a new body. All in the name of science, learning and exploration. I can’t help the smile that lands on my face as I run my hand along the wall seeing the differences in all the heights, slowly I stop at Grace’s name and I frown slightly, damn I am shorter than her.
“Check again!” My eyes snap up as I hear Jakes yell through the foyer as he glares at Max and when I look down, I see Malu put a hand in front of her face snickering quietly.
“Sorry, dude but the tape doesn’t lie, 8.11feet Norm’s taller by an inch.” Max replies with a small smirk on his face, looking a little bit too pleased with himself that he got to be the one to tell Jake this information.
I look over at Norm who has a shit eating grin on his face as he throws his arms up in triumph over his one-inch difference towards Jake. I watch as Jake grumpily signs his name above the line and glares at wear Max wrote 8.11.
“Jake, please don’t tell me you’re made about 1 inch of height?” I laugh as I walk over to them and Malu happily waves at me and quickly turns back to her notebook where I can see her writing down the heights of Norm and Jake and possibly adding that her uncle is being a baby.
“Theres a big difference in one inch if you know how to use it, Vos.” Jake smirks over at me and my ears flatten across my head, and I can feel heat rising to my cheeks and it rises even further to my ears.
“Jake!” I chastised as I motion down to Malu who furrows her eyebrows together in confusion at the statement her uncle just made.
Which in turn just causing Jake to Cackle harder, and as I look over at Norm, I can see the evidence of heat rising to his own face and ears and begins to rub his hands together with his cap placed between them.
Jake throws his hands up in surrender, which gives me a second to survey his outfit, long light brown trousers, charcoal shirt and a khaki over shirt to finish it off. Ahh so Marron isn’t the only shirt colour on offer.
“What, it’s not like you’re a prude, if you were Malu wouldn’t exist.” Jake laughs again leaning down Boink Malu on the top of her head and quickly moves away before getting slapped by the 5-year-old.
Oh, how little you know dear brother, “No. but you can’t say that sort of shit in front of her. it’s inappropriate!” Malu’s head snaps up at me when she hears me curse.
Jake Crosses his arms but points a finger at me, “Swear jar.” He smirks, Malu nods affirmatively turning back to her notebook, preparing to right down my height next. With her gaze no longer locked on me I flip Jake the bird, but as if sensing it Malu looks up again and I quickly switch it to a peace sign.
“I’m just calling a truce with Uncle Jake man-cub.” I say down to her, she eyes me suspiciously before placing the measuring tape against the floor as I take an extra minute to untie my boots since I tied them so tight.
During this minute Jake and I exchange various stupid facial expressions at one another and multiple flipping of the birds above Malu, who is tapping her pen against the paper, showing her impatience in having to wait for me. I throw my hands up in surrender as she regards me with a small glare indicating that I am taking too long in her opinion and if you have ever met a 5-year-old, in their world their opinion is law.
As I lean up against the wall, I can see Jake and Norm move closer to find out how tall I am as its clearly obvious, I’m a bit shorter than both of them. Which makes me weirdly worried, should I be concerned about my height, am I shorter than the average Na’vi is my avatar actually not ready to be decanted and going to fall over in a heap of limbs if I use it too much. Before I can let my brain spiral too much, Max calls out the height.
“8.5feet tall, not the shortest we’ve had, but basing it off of the average of most Female Na’vi heights it is on the shorter side.” I let out a breath, turning round to quickly sign my name above the line and look down to Malu crouching down.
“Mama’s one of the shortest man-cub, think you can cut me a break, knowing I’m about to be berated by your uncle and forget about my curse slip up.” Malu regards me for a second biting her lip, eyeing her uncle who looks utterly gleeful at finding out I am on the shorter side of the Na’vi. Malu gives me a slow nod, and I put out my fist which she mimics, and I again can’t help at gape at the size difference between human and Na’vi Physiques.
I stand back up and move to put my boots up and I feel Jake start to saunter up to me and without looking up from my boots I speak to him, “Say anything about my height and you lose the person that reaches the high cupboards for you in your human body.”
“Yeah, cause you and Tommy always hid the best snacks up there from Malu.” Jake gestures towards her and Malu’s expression quickly goes from neutral to shock in seconds, which causes me to laugh.
“Yeah, and you, whenever I left snacks at Jake height you and Malu would eat them all and you’d just roll away leaving me with a sugar high toddler.” I finish the last laces on my boots giving them a quick shake to ensure they’re secured, I stand to my full height placing my hands on my hips, one eyebrow raised, in a stance of challenge me on this I dare you.
Malu quickly looks back down at her notes and Jake slaps his hands together, “So outside now?” he throws a thumb towards the door, and I chuckle at him nodding.
I quickly give my farewells to Max and Malu, who is happily holding hands with the scientist as he rattles on about how they were going to input the new heights of the avatars into the data base and he is going to show her more around the other labs.
I smiled as I watched her go off, and I followed after Norm and Jake who was boasting that he could 100% beat any of the records that the other Avatars may hold on the courses. Mentioning that with his once inch less of height he may be faster cause less weight but quickly changed his tune and said that his missing inch much have went somewhere, with a smirk on his face. I gagged and promptly covered my ears with my hands not wishing to hear any more words come from my perverted brother’s mind.
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The rest of the day we found ourselves being monitored by Grace, as she is the head of the avatar program and one of the first 20 avatars ever created and brought to Pandora. Going through some of the different courses, Jake surprises more of the experienced avatar’s by making it through so quickly.
Norm takes a slower approach but manages to complete the course as well, and me well.
“Do I have to?” I ask Grace as we watch Norm climb down the last obstacle out of breath and sweating and Jake congratulates him with a slap on his back and Norm almost keels over with his hands rested on his knees slip off from the impact.
Grace Raises an eyebrow at me as she takes me in, my eyes are darting around the course but seem to stay on the high scale wooden climbing frame that must be at least 50feet in the air. My arms crossed holding them close to myself, I can feel my ears flat across my head and my tail curls itself around my right leg. Which only seems to amuse Grace more as she pushes my shoulder causing me to stumble closer to the hurdles.
“Come on Shorty, can’t let the men one up you.” She laughs, which in turn makes me let out a nervous laugh as I stare down at the course, Hurdles at least ten, then a ladder like wooden platform that we need to climb over and lastly the rope wall climb. It’s the first obstacle course they get new avatars to do to get us used to the new bodies strength and begin to learn how to balance and coordinate, especially with the added tail.
I’m not saying I’m scared of heights, but I do happen to like staying close to the ground and that feels like a normal thing considering you can’t fall to your death from the ground, without some circumstances occurring.
“Come on Vos you got this!” Jake yells out some encourage cupping his hands over his mouth, so his voice leaps across the field and I see Norm, who’s still out of breath and hunched over his legs give me a thumbs up.
I take a deep breath, a few steps back and I start to run but as I make it to the first hurdle I stop, as I keep looking towards the last two obstacles and I turn to Grace, “Can I just do the hurdles today?” I ask a bit sheepishly.
“Sorry doc, we have to make sure that you’re in tune with you new body and understand how it works-“ I go to interrupt Grace but she puts a hand up silencing me, “You may understand it through text books Cori, but you need the practical experience too, this isn’t just theory work anymore, this is the real thing, now run and tackle this course.”
I take another look towards the course and let out a sigh hanging my head in defeat, nodding begrudgingly at Grace. I line myself up for the course shaking my arms out a little, followed by my head and legs, I then begin doing some leg stretches.
“You’re stalling…” Grace calls out from just behind me.
I pause mid-stretch with my two arms out in front right leg bent with the left out straight next to me and slowly pull myself up.
“I’m a doctor, I know how important it is to stretch and warm up before a workout, I don’t wanna pull a muscle on my first day.” I say and I can hear grace’s chuckle echo out muttering a quiet ‘okay’.
I look forward again, I can see both Jake and Norm looking at me from the other end of the course, I can’t make out their facial expressions all too clearly from this distance. But I can feel the support coming from both of them, Jake with the knowledge of my resistance whenever it came to height and Norm cause he really is just a good friend to me. I take a deep breath and run.
The hurdles are a unique experience, unlike most hurdles where runners are expected to jump them without touching, here we are able to use our hands to vault ourselves over. Each vault I feel both my arms and my legs burn from the movement but not from fatigue but from using them for the first time, using the strength and muscle that the Na’vi DNA gave them. My pulse and my breath increase, as I keep moving and the more, I go the easier the movements feel to me. As I get closer to the end the hurdles get higher and I have to use more of my leg Muscles to push my body higher to then use my arms to swing myself over, it feels good, it feels amazing. It feels almost easy and natural to be able to Manoeuvre my body like this.
As I vault myself over the final hurdle, I take a deep breath to slow my beating heart as I gaze up at the wooden frame I’m expecting to climb over. I gulp as I have to tilt my head back to look towards the top.
Taking another steading step towards the wooden ladder like frame, I began to hum a song to myself that I would sing to Malu whenever she was scared or had a bad dream. As I reach for the first beam I whisper out, “All you gotta do is..”
I pull my self up onto the Frame squeezing it so tightly with my hands I can see the hue in my blue knuckles lighten, and I keep singing with every movement.
“Look for the bare necessities” I reach with my left hand first, moving my right leg along with it.
“The simple bare necessities” My right hand, and left leg follow through.
“Forget about your worries and your strife” Again.
“I mean the bare necessities” Again.
“Old Mother Nature's recipes” Again.
“That bring the bare necessities of life” As I finish the first chorus I take a steading breath and look out, and realise I made it to the top, I then immediately regret my decision as I look down, and I feel bile raise up in my throat, which I choke back.
I continue to sing as I crouch down, turning my body around so that I’m climbing down feet first.
“Wherever I wander, wherever I roam” I don’t look down as blindly feel with my boots for the first bean, once I connect, I keep going.
“I couldn't be fonder of my big home” Right leg first, left hand Following after, I make sure to keep my body pinned as closely to the frame as possible.
“The bees are buzzin' in the tree” Left leg next, followed by right hand, taking deep breaths before each movement and the singing grounds me even its barley a whisper.
“To make some honey just for me” Again.
“When you look under the rocks and plants” Again.
“And take a glance at the fancy ants” Again.
“Then maybe try a few” My feet finally hit the floor as I breathe out the last line to the first verse, and I can hear Jake and Norm more clearly now as I inch closer to the end of the course, just the ropes now.
I look forward towards it deciding that I don’t need to be fast, I just need to complete speed comes with time and the fact I’m doing this at all is shocking me. My dearest father would be yelling at me to pick up the pace, but I have nothing to prove with this course. I’m a Linguistic and a Trauma surgeon, I’m going to be on the ground not in the air. As I move forward towards the rope, I keep whispering the lyrics to myself.
“You eat ants?
Hahaha, you gotta believe it
And you're gonna love the way they tickle
Mowgli, look out!” I reach the rope tugging on it, looking up towards the top to ensure that it is secure, Once I find that the rope will indeed hold my weight, even though I did just watch the same rope hold both Jakes and Norms as they went through.
“The bare necessities of life will come to you (When?)” I brace my left foot against the wooden beams first.
“They'll come to you” Right moving next to it so they are hip width apart.
“Look for the bare necessities” One step.
“The simple bare necessities” Two Step.
“Forget about your worries and your strife” One step.
“I mean the bare necessities” Two Step.
“That's why a bear can rest at ease” One Step.
“With just the bare necessities of life” I reach the top, and instead of bile reaching up in my throat again my eyes widen as I look past the base, into the vast forest just beyond the walls, and I listen, the Na’vi ears can pick up sounds much better than a human. I drown out the sounds of the base below me and just listen to the forest, I can hear birds Well pandora’s version of birds that is, insects, water rushing, animals in the distance. It all sounds so alive, this planet is truly alive and breathing and I’m here I get to experience this. Earth has never felt like this, earth never made me feel good when I took in deep breaths cause the pollution and over deforestation killed our natural wildlife and the plant life along with it.
Humans were greedy, they wanted more instead of following along and listening to what well for lack for a better spokesperson, mother nature was trying to tell us. What scientists, especially our environmentalists were trying to tell us. But no one listened with such intense over population too, the world wasn’t big enough to sustain us all. But here the Na’vi are so respectful towards Eywa, they listen to her, whenever they make a kill of an animal its never out of greed, they use all parts of the animal, they thank it for sustaining the clan.
I just hope I get the chance to learn more from them, that I can be of use to them, as I am the guest here. I am the alien to them. I close my eyes breathing in the fresh air once again, feeling more at ease than I have in years, before crouching down, swinging my legs over the ledge and climb down the other side.
No longer needing the song to put me at ease, Pandora and possibly Eywa doing that for me.
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After a few more hours as the sky began to darken as dusk was just starting to settle into night, we were all moved towards the longhouse where our avatars would spend the night uninhabited by its human drivers. Once inside we all quickly moved towards changing rooms to get out of the sweaty clothes of the day, into fresh comfortable pjs, after a cold shower.
Norm, Jake and I found ourselves crowded in a circle together both Jake and I sat on our own beds next to each other and Norm sat on the floor with his legs crossed over leaning his head on his hand, as we both listen to Jake ramble on about how he set a new course record for first time runs.
Before he could go on another tangent, I put up my hand to silence him, “I mean I also set a new record, for being the slowest time recorded.” I smirked towards him; Norm snorted as Jake rolled his eyes at me, before he can respond Grace enters the Longhouse clapping loudly which causes everyone to look in her direction.
“Come on, everybody! Quiet down!” She yells out and Norm quickly stumbles to a standing position muttering quiet ‘sorry’s’ as he bumps and pushes past a few unexpecting avatars to make it to his own bed, I smile as I see the tips of his ears darken in obvious embarrassment.
Grace claps again to ensure she has everyone’s attention calling out, “All right, gang, lights out.” Grace also starts to push out the other human scientists as this is a Avatar only space after the lights and the sky go dark.
I move to stand so I can lift the blanket up, and place my self under the covers, but my eye catch’s Jake’s movements and I see that he’s hold his Queue,(Kuru).
“Jake. You’ll take your eye out with that,” I say adjusting my pillow.
“What’s it called?” he asked, currently facing away from me on his bed.
“English ‘Queue’ in Na’vi Kuru or Tswin, its extremely sensitive and important to the Na’vi culture as they us it to create Tsaheylu which in English we call the bond. It’s how the Na’vi connect to everything on Pandora and you shouldn’t be pulling it out just to look at it!” I say exasperated as I lay back onto the bed getting comfortable closing my eyes ready for some sleep after a long day.
I hear as he shuffles on his bed and I can feel him looking at me, “Come on, even you gotta admit its freaky looking” The bed squeaks as he leans closer towards me, and I crack one eye open, from a person who has not studied anything about the Na’vi I can understand why he thinks that.
But as I have studied everything there was available about the Na’vi and their culture, I completely disagree with him, “I think it’s beautiful.” I shrug and close my eyes.
Jake huffs obviously disagreeing with me, releasing the braid that holds his queue and flops back down on the bed, as Grace finishes locking up and putting the lights out.
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My eyes blink awake, and instead of looking up at the wooden panelling of the longhouse, I find myself back in my human body, looking up at the metal like coffin of the Link bed. I can hear the whirling of the machine as I’m pulled back into the reality of my human body, it feels heavy and stiff and I can feel pins and needles all over myself as I’ve been stationary for what the past 12 hours. I push lid of the bed up and carefully push up the chest and heat guards mindful of the wiring on it and groan as I sit up huffing out a breath.
Davis chuckles beside me, “I hear that’s a common first reaction, after one’s first transfer, he offers me a hand to help out but I wave him off slightly as I rub at my eyes and take a tentative step onto the ground and Immediately have to lean back on the bed as my legs have indeed fallen asleep.
“I understand why Grace smokes now.” I mutter as I give my thighs a a few rubs with my hands, Davis smiles at me shaking his head.
“Don’t tell me you’re going to take it up now.” He tilts his head slightly at me and for the first time I actually take him in, He’s quite tall around Norm’s height and has a similar lanky body shape with curly brown hair that falls to his shoulders and grey eyes that hold a certain kindness to him, under his lab coat he wears a checkered blue and white button up with a deep red tie loosely wrapped around the collar signifying he’s loosened it throughout the day. Matched with some black jeans and red sneakers.
He raises an eyebrow at me, as I’ve been staring at him probably longer than socially acceptable, “Sorry! My brains just trying to catch up right now, and no I don’t plan on it, I had a cigarette once and my daughter smelt it on my breath and got lectured for over an hour by a four-year-old.” I shake my head as my hands come up to run my fingers through my head trying to ease some of the tension I’m feeling inside my skull.
Davis snorts, “I haven’t heard her speak a word today, but with the furiosity she’s been writing everything down on that note pad of hers I could believe that.”
I smile at the thought, though its slightly pained as I come to the realisation that, there goes another day without Malu speaking. But before I can allow myself to spiral Max and Jake appear in front of me and I squint at Max as he doesn’t have Malu next to him.
“She’s with Grace.” He answers my silent question, and my jaw drops slightly at the answer, “In the dining hall, She told Malu to write up some questions for her and when Grace unlinked Malu practically threw the note book at her.”
Jake snorts, “I would’ve paid to see that.”
Max leans down to whisper towards Jake but not quiet enough for myself or Davis not to hear, “We have Cameras in the lab, I’ll make copies.”
The four of us let out laughs, as Norm steps into the empty space at the end of my link bed, furrowing his brows.
“What’s so funny?” He asks,
“Karma.” Jake and I say in Sync and then smirk at one another.
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Jake and Norm decided to just grab some snacks and head straight to their dorm room, as both their eyes and their bodies looked so tired and fatigued after the day. I bid them both quick goodbyes, a fist bump to Norm and a quick hug to Jake. I make my way towards to the cafeteria entrances, and I’m happy to find that it seems fairly quiet with only a couple of drivers and a few scientists littered across the room.
True to his word I find Malu sat across one of the metal cafeteria tables across from Grace, writing quickly as Grace answers another one of her questions she wrote down. Her food next to her has barley been touched along with Grace’s, both too in deep conversing, about the world of Pandora and all its mysteries. Malu using a second notebook to write down anything she wants to say or add in response to Grace’s answers. Not wanting to interrupt just yet I head over to grab some food for myself and make my way over.
Neither of them looks up as I hear Grace start talking about the Tree of souls - Vitraya Ramunong.
“God, what I would give to get a sample.” Grace speaks almost euphorically at the idea, and I smile as I slide in Next to Malu, causing them both to jump slightly, Malu quickly wraps her arms around me giving me a tight squeeze.
I squeeze her back just as tightly dropping a kiss to her head, “Hey, Man-cub, you have fun today?” I pull back from her to see her grin up at me nodding her head quickly as she holds her notebook up towards me triumphantly and starts showing me her pages and pages worth of notes. I smile at her and place my hand on her head and taking the Notebook from her hands which causes her to try and leap forward reaching for it, I push back on her head lightly holding the notebook out of reach, “Na-uh Man-cub, its dinner, shower, teeth and bed, for both of us.” I point towards the tray of food next to her and shake the notebook, “You can have this back tomorrow.” Malu gives me a slight glare which I counter with one of my own, before she sighs and pulls the tray closer to her grumbling slightly as she chews at the food.
Grace clears her throat as I place the notebook next to my food tray away from Malu’s reach as I can see her side eyeing it, trying to calculate the best way to get it back in her hands and I shake my head at her. I look towards Grace, as I begin to slowly eat at the food on my plate, not really feeling hungry.
“Our brains think we’ve already eaten because we ate in our avatar bodies, so the first few transfers you may notice a loss of appetite.” She says as she also is taking slow bites of her food.
I nod slowly towards her, and I can’t help the little voice of my mother speaking to me, ‘Good, you could stand to lose some weight.’
“Figures, honestly, Guess I’ll have to have Malu keep me on track then.” Malu’s head tilts up to me at that and with firm assurance she nods signalling she would happily do the job.
¬¬
Once the 3 of us finished eating, with Malu falling asleep over half-way through her meal, her head now resting on my lap. Grace offers to take our trays, and I thank her as I pull Malu in my arms cradling her head in the croak of my neck. I make sure to grab both her notebooks before making my way towards the exit.
“She’s a smart kid.” Grace calls out and I stop in my path turning around, Grace and I may have had a heart-to-heart last night, but I still can’t help being a little wary of her, so my eyes narrow slightly on her and Grace sighs, “I mean it, she was able to ask and answer questions that most people with degrees would bulk at and on top of that she’s fluent in Na’vi and that in itself is incredible.”
“Teaching her Na’vi was somewhat both unplanned and planned in a way, I wanted to teach her the language of my ancestors which is Gaelic. But since Tommy was also working on bettering his Na’vi we started speaking it at home a lot and Malu just sort of pick it up.” I shrugged with the shoulder that Malu’s head wasn’t currently resting on.
“She writes and reads it well, I hope one day I’ll be able to hear it…” Grace tatters off as I flinch slightly.
“Me too Grace, Me too.” I turn around muttering a small goodbye, before making my way towards the dorm rooms, I guess a shower will have to wait considering I don’t know how I feel about leaving my daughter alone in this facility just yet. I’ve only really made contact with are Max, Grace and Davis within the science team and out of the Soldiers I’ve met I’m not too keen to meet more.
Once we’re back settled into bed, it doesn’t take long for me to join Malu in sleep land, and when I do fall asleep, I dream. I dream of running barefoot in the forest, Swinging through tress scaling mountains and soaring through the sky and for once I don’t feel so scared of the heights.
I promise yall Tsu’tey will be in the next chapter 😂 also holy hell I made it over 30k words 😯🥺 this is the most I’ve wrote for a story in a long time and I’m praying I don’t get writers block but since I genuinely find it hard to step away from my computer to go to sleep I’m hoping that doesn’t become a problem! I’m determined to finish this story!
Here’s chapter 5 I did want to add a little more, but i decided to split up what i wanted to add into the next chapter so i could push this one out tonight! I hope you all enjoy it.
i do apologise for any mistakes as I’ve had to write most of this chapter on my iPad with my little keyboard attached to it instead of my PC as I’m away from home tonight, I did go through and try to edit as much as possible but there may be some mistakes I missed as some times my keyboard decided it doesn’t like letters or adds full stops when i dont t intend them, either way i hope you all enjoy reading as I did Writing!
Read on AO3 HERE
Word count:6k
Chapter 4 - Chapter 6
Chapter 5
After eating the food the food that Grace brought, I immediately climbed into bed next to Malu, I know I have my own bunk space, but after being stuck in cyrosleep for the past six years, I really just wanted to snuggle up with my daughter again. Feeling her little breaths across my neck and the rise and fall of her chest calms me. I can feel her snuggling up closer to me and before sleep truly takes me I press a kiss on the top of her head making a promise to Tommy.
‘I’ll take care of her Tommy, no harm will ever come to our little girl.’
¬¬
Sleep was a little rough if I’m being honest the lumpy and thin mattress and zero support pillows. Also the residual uneasiness of the day even after my conversation with Grace, didn’t ease many of my anxieties, but I was also excited. Today is the day I get to Link up with my avatar for the first time and when I hear my alarm go off for 0600 hours I practically jump out of bed, but my legs get tangled in the sheet and I ended up fall out of the bed with a very grumpy Malu looking down at me as I roused her from her own slumber.
I smile a big grin at her and bring my face closer to hers, “Morning sleeping beauty, its time to get up and ready for the day, as we always say the early bird gets the worm.” I give her a quick kiss to her nose and untangle the sheets from my legs throwing it back on the bed, standing with hands on my hips I blow some of my hair that fell from the bun out of my face, now looking down at Malu who throws me a glare that I read as ‘Not once in our lives have we been early risers.’
I then scop up Malu and spin around the room with her which causes her to giggle, and my heart stutters a bit at the sound, she might not be talking right now, but my little girl is still in there. She’s just waiting for the right moment to find her voice again. I smile as I pull her into a tight cuddle before grabbing our toileters and clothes for the day, marching down to brave the public toilet and shower rooms. Gods its just like high school PE classes again, which makes a shutter run down my spine.
¬¬¬
After braving the showers, Malu and I make our way to the cafeteria where we meet up with Jake and Norm, who are also dressed in what seems to be the mandatory Grey shirt and pants for avatar drivers, with Malu wearing a vintage jungle book shirt that I managed to thrift a few years ago which is more like a dress on her, with black leggings and black studded combat boots, Tommys sweater wrapped tightly round her waist and Bagheera clutched tightly in her hands.
The four of us are sat at a table which was already pretty full, so Malu opted to sit on Jake’s lap, to clear some space on the bench. We all sat in silence for the most part quietly eating our food and looking at the two of them I can tell they slept as well as me. Malu happily hums to the tune of Bare necessities as she happily eats away at breakfast considering she slept through dinner, I did try to wake her to eat something last night but she kept swatted her hands at me and rolling over, so I made sure she got some extra food this morning.
Norm finally decides to break the silence with a not subtle cough which causes Jake and I to pause slightly at our slow eating of breakfast.
“Todays the day, all those hours we did linking up finally lead us up to this moment.” Norm rubs his hands together, oblivious to jake furrowing his brows as he looks at me and mouths ‘Linking up?’ I wave a hand dismissing him,
“Link time, he’s talking about how many hours we did in the simulation to practise for linking up with our actual avatars, I think by the time we got on the ship I had about 400 under my belt.” I explain to him which he regards me with a slow nod muttering right, “It was in the manual I gave you to read, cause I knew we wouldn’t have time to get you any link hours before leaving. You did read it right.” I raised an eyebrow at him.
“Yeah-definitely-absolutely I read it” Jake says quickly, and before I question him further, Malu then signs, ‘he did I saw.’
I sigh, “Do you remember it though” I question leaning a bit closer,
“guess we’ll find out.” Jake shrugs as he continues to eat his food, slightly joining in on Malu’s humming as she switches to ‘I wanna be like you’.
“Well I ended up logging over 500-520 to be exact, but I’m sure you’ll be able to wing it today.” Norm says, I look up to him narrowing my eyes slightly at my friend, and he regards me with a quiet what and shrug of his shoulders, I simply shake my head, I can tease and insult my brother but that’s off limits to other people.
I turn my attention back to Jake, “You’ll be fine, you just need to clear your head and the machine will do the rest of the work.” I lean over and knock on his head with my hand which he promptly slaps away, “Should be perfectly easy for a Jarhead like you.”
I smile as I lean back on my chair, as Jake grumples his objections at me, the four of us continue to eat in a comfortable silence before making our way towards the link rooms.
Todays the day.
¬¬¬¬¬
As we make it to the Link rooms, Max comes over to us first and greets us with a happy smile and promptly turns to Malu, “Hey Malu, looks like you’ll be my assistant today as your mum and uncle Link up, you reckon you can handle the job?”
Malu doesn’t even look at me as she smiles up at Max nodding enthuasically taking his hand and waving back at us with Bagheera in her grip. Both Jake and I smile and wave back at her as Grace walks past us, calling out “Keep up.”
The three of us scuttle after her as she keeps a brisk pace.
“So how much Link time have you logged?” Grace calls over her shoulder,
“About 520 hours,” Norm states first, and I can see him rubbing his hands together, something I’ve notices he does when he is feeling nervous.
“400 for me and believe me when you have a kid, that shits a lot more impressive.” I laugh, pushing Norm slightly.
Grace doesn’t turn to us but I see her nodding and utters out a that’s good before pointing to the first open link bed, “Spellman your there,” Pointing at the next one down, “Dr Sully there.” I give her a quick salute which she doesn’t see before she takes Jake down to the next open link bed.
It doesn’t shock me all that much that she wants to be the one to put him in the link bed for the first time. When I reach my link be I’m greeted with a male scientist, who promptly sticks out his hand towards me.
“Hi, I’m Davis, Dr Davis Jones,” I smiled at him and shook his hand, he looked really excited to be here, “I was on the same shuttle with you, so you’re technically the first drive I’m helping Link in.” He continues on, as I jump up on the link bed, it was really comfy honestly more comfortable that the mattress I tried to sleep on last night.
“I’m Corvus, but everyone calls me Cori, Dr Cori Jones-Sully.” As I lie down on the link bed, oh yeah 100% more comfortable than the mattress.
“Ahh so were name twins then.” He laughed out as he set the metal cage over my torso, I let out a light laugh.
“Yeah, I guess so.” As I laid down in the link bed and closed my eyes, I took a few deep breaths, thinking in my head that this is just like the simulations I’ve down hundreds of times before. But then I felt a hand squeeze my own I opened my eyes lifting my head slightly and fond my eyes looking into the ones of my daughters, I immediately squeezed back and offered her a big smile.
“Hey man-cub, you ready for Mama to look a bit more blue.” Malu looked at me though fully tilting her head, putting a hand to her chin before she gave me a nod, I hummed back at her with my own nod as well, “Well you better go stand by Max, and listen to his instructions then, sounds like were ready to start.” She let go of my hand moving closer to me an placed a kiss o my cheek and I quickly turned my head to give her one back with an audible Muawh. “Love you too Malu, off you run now.”
Malu then runs off to stand by Max following after him two steps behind to ensure she wouldn’t get in his way, But Max put a hand on her shoulder ushering her in a little closer, showing her the tablet he was holding.
“Cute kid you got there.” Davis says as he was facing the screen next to the bed, I smiled up at him.
“I know, wish I could say she gets it from me but she’s the spitting image of her dad.” I laugh, shaking my head slightly, wary of the metal wiring right around my head.
“Is she his?” I can see him vaguely nod over to the link bed where Jake is currently talking to Grace where I can hear her repermanding him over having no link time and deciding to coming to Pandora at all, I smile as I hear him say, ‘Maybe I was sick of doctors telling me what I couldn’t do.’
“No, he’s her uncle-his twin Tommy is her dad.” I say with a small sad smile, which Davis mirrors with one of his own.
“Yeah… I hear some of the other techs talking about that, I’m sorry and my condolences.” He places a hand on my shoulder offering me some quiet comfort, as he gives it a light squeeze.
I smile at him and mouth a quiet thank you, “Now let's get me linked up, been waiting too long for this moment.”
Davis smiles at me one last time and the closes the lid of the link. Lying down on the bed, I close my eyes and allow myself to clear my mind of any thoughts, something that is usually hard for me to do, but being enclosed in this small space, the only sounds I can hear are the whirling of the machines I actually find it really easy to allow my mind to go blank.
~~~~~~
Malu’s POV
I keep my eyes locked on my mum's link as I stand by Max, he’s moving around with a massive tablet that’s showing the brain activity of the three new drivers, My mum, Uncle Jake and Norm. Grace comes moves closer to the two of us and I instinctively move a little close to Max. If I’m being honest, she scares me a little bit, she wasn’t exactly the nicest person yesterday.
I think I may have built up an idea of her in my head before coming to Pandora, I’ve always looked up to Dr Augustine, but she’s not exactly how I envisioned her. And I don’t think I made the best impression the other day either.
I don’t know why I can’t talk right now, its just hard, I know I want to talk there is so many things I want to say and questions I want to ask. But whenever I open my mouth to speak its as if the words just get stuck in my throat and I can’t get them out. I did some research on it back on earth and apparently its normal for children who go through a traumatic experience they can find it hard to talk afterwarrds. Which I do get, when I saw my dad lying in that cardboard box, knowing that he was about to be turned into a pile of ashes, life didn’t feel all that good anymore.
I didn’t know what would happen next. Especially when it came to coming to Pandora, it was my parents dream as much as it was my own dream. But I never thought I would be experiencing it without my dad with me. I am glad uncle Jake is here though, he may be rough around the edges to everyone else but he’s my uncle Jake and to me I wouldn’t change him for anything.
I know he isn’t my dad, the two of them couldn’t be anymore different, but that’s what made it so great. Uncle Jake is fun, he reminds me that even though I am considered a child prodigy like my mum, I’m still a kid and kids are meant to run around and have fun not be stuck in a lab all day.
But I have always liked both, I like that I get to learn about things in the labs from different scientists and furthering my knowledge and interest on things. But I also enjoy the days I got to spend with Jake, where we just played together in the yard, or park or lounging watching tv all day. I always remember how on those days my dad would get angry with Jake about it, saying that too much screen time would rot my brain. I think I’m doing okay from it.
A swinge of sadness goes through my heart as I realise my dad can’t ever be mad again at Uncle Jake. He can’t do anything anymore because he’s dead.
I quickly blink back the tears that I know are forming in my eyes and reprimand myself, ‘Come on Malu, you are on Pandora surrounding by the world that you have dreamed about since you could dream. Surrounded by incredible scientists including the dr Grace Augustine.’
Max had moved us both over to the viewing window where I could see a couple of different Medtechs standing inside the lab that now housed the new avatar for the new drivers linking up for the first time. I can’t help but smile at them, its weird seeing the similarities between their human bodies and their avatars, cause looking at them I can clearly see my mum in hers, all she needs is the mess bun and it will be a perfect imitation just taller and bluer, the avatars bio luminescent spots match the freckles on her human face and body. Norm is the same, he’s already quite tall so the fact that he’s going to be even taller in his avatar form is quite confronting I think I’m only going to make it to the height of his knees and maybe not even that.
Then there’s Uncle Jake, I know and am well aware that this avatar was intended for my dad, but what I said (Signed) yesterday spoke truth. This avatar feels like it was always meant to be for Uncle Jake, even though my dads the phd and trained for this mission there was always a little part of me that couldn’t see my dad here doing this. Those thoughts always make me feel guilty though, I wish my dad were here, but wishing for him to be here feels like I’m wishing for Uncle Jake not to be here. In a perfect scenario they both would be here and I’d have my family complete again, but then again I would have to hear the arguments between my Dad and uncle and watch as my mother would put herself in between them trying to lesson the fight reminding them I was sleeping in the next room.
I could never sleep when they fought though, so in a way I knew that when we came here I would be saying goodbye. I just don’t think I ever anticipated that the goodbye would be this permanent.
“That’s a gorgeous brain,” Max stood right beside me leaning down to show me the screen on the tablet, it glowed brightly with shifting colours indicating that the brain was high functioning, I looked to the corner of the screen and saw that it belonged to my mum, “ I knew your mum was smart but damn you don’t see a brain like this everyday.”
I smiled as I turned back to the window, with excitement and anticipation coursing through my body as I waited for the avatars to rise. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Max switch to another one of the brain scans and with the way Dr Augustine was scrutinising it, I knew it had to be Uncle Jake’s.
“Nice activity” Max turned the screen slightly more in Grace’s direction as I stood on my tippy toys to ensure I got a good view of the avatars.
“Hmm, go figure.” Grace pats Max on the head but before she fully turns away I can feel her stare on the back of my head and I turn to look at her tilting my head slightly. “Today, why don’t you write a list of questions for me? Your mum said you read my book, perhaps your questions could help inspire me to write another.”
My eye widened slightly and my mouth fell slightly open, I quickly closed it ad nodded enthusiastically at her smiling. She gave me a tight-lipped smile back before turning around heading towards the link bed next to Uncle Jake’s.
“Alright I’m going in.” She calls out.
“Phase-lock at fourth percent. They’re in transition.” One f the tech at the inner consol calls out, and I keep my eyes locked onto the three avatars in the lab.
Max crouches down next to me and whispers, “That’s it find your way home now.” He places a reassuring hand on my back which makes me realise that I’m shaking slightly, from nerves or excitement I couldn’t tell at this point. But I knew after today I might have found myself new favourite scientist in Max.
“Phase-lock at 99 percent. Link is sable.” The same tech from before calls out.
“Look, they’re in” Max points towards the avatars in the room as I watch 3 different set of yellow eyes begin to blink awake.
“They did it.” I whisper, so quietly that with all the shuffling of scientists and machines in the room even Max didn’t hear me.
Cori’s POV
I’m in, I’m in my avatar, and who knew blinking could take so much effort and focusing ones eyeballs on the two doctors above me would feel like trying to wake up from the worse hangover of your life. I should know the one an only time I drank enough to be hungover, I had my three year old daughter leaning over me asking me why I wasn’t up yet and that I smelled horrible and why I had thrown up in the trash can instead of the toilet. That day I swore of brown liquor and tequila. (A/N I know in America the legal drinking age is 21 but in Australia its 18 so I’m going off that.)
Blinking quickly as I feel the light from a flashlight blind me temporally, I go to open my mouth and feel like I’ve just had a bag full of cotton balls stuffed in them based on how dry it feels. I quickly start to lick at my lips and fill my mouth with saliva and try to push away at the flashlight.
“Dr Sully, Dr Sully can you hear me?” As my eyes come into focus more I can see two medics standing over me, as I hear snapping coming from fingers next to my ears and I feel them twice and swivel to the sounds.
Okay not gonna lie that’s a weird feeling, not even the simulation could truly prepare me for, I slowly start to push my self up and that was the moment I realised how small these medics looked, and as I let my eyes drop to my hands and legs I can’t help the small excite squeal I let out as I see that I am no longer white and freckled but blue and freckled.
I turn quickly to the medic on my Left, “Pupillary reflexes all in the normal ranges, yes?” The medics mouth drops in shock for a second but before I can let him respond I turn to the one on my right, “Pinna response, looking good as well.”
Both medics look towards one another gaping slightly, causing me to let out a light laugh, “Yeah, the Dr in my name is MD as well as linguistics.” I quickly go through the motions of movements in each of my joints, starting with my fingers, touching each of my blue fingers to my thumbs, nodding as I watch the two medics start to write notes.
“Fine motor skills in the phalanges are good with no pain or anomalies in the movement of the lumbrical muscles or policies brevis.” Moving my wrist in circular motions and then my elbow and shoulders, “Flexo Carpi Ulnaris,Pronato teres Brachioradialis, biceps and trapezius muscles all feel good too, the bones feel weirdly strong and denser and I knew this in my studies but feeling it for the fist time is really something else.”
As I start to call out the muscles and bones in my abdominals and lower regions, the. Female medic medic who was on my right puts a hand on my thigh.
“We are well aware of your qualifications D Sully, and have no doubt in our mind that if you felt something physically wrong with you, you would bring it to our attention but how do you feel, mentally right now.” She smiles at me through he exo-pack and it dawns on me in that moment as I reach up to my face, that I don’t need one. No in this body I am built for Pandora, I can breathe the air and run outside without fear of collapsing my own human lungs and dropping dead.
“I feel-“before I can answer and quite frankly, I am glad for the interruption I hear some panicked voices coming from my right, as I look past Norm who is being an excellent patient for his medic and see my dear brother, attempting to stand.
And my mouth drops open, I’m kind of an idiot for not thinking about this before hand, my brother who has been paralysed from the waist and down for the past few years has his legs back.
And knowing my brother he is not listening to a single thing the medics are saying to him and as bad as it may sound, I can’t help but to laugh a little at the scene of these poor medical professionals trying to slow my brother down. The two medics who were standing by me immediately move off to assist their colleges to get Jake to sit back down on the gurney. I can see his tail swishing round slapping against the bed narrowly missing the medic near the top of gurney but immediately swishing back around to slap the woman on the face.
“Jake! I need you to sit down Jake!” The medics are yelling now and as I look up towards the viewing window I can see Malu patting Max on the arm to alert him of the scene that’s currently unfolding and I watch asMax’s eyes widen as he takes in Jake standing well before any of his motors senses are checked.
I honestly can’t help the small line of silver that lines my eyes, which I mentally check off in my head that my Ophthalm, My eyes I just like using The medical terms sometimes to remind people even though I’m young i’m a fully qualified doctor with. The terminology to back it up. But they’re functioning well and I can Cleary see and cry. As I watch Jake his first step in his new body, falling forward bracing himself against the window.
“It’s okay, its all good I’ve got this.” As I watch him stubble, I smile at him, he absolutely does not got this yet, and I know if I don’t step in he might actually hurt himself. So despite the medics in the room probably going to turn their Anger towards me when they see I am also no longer on my gurney. It’s true what they say about doctors being the worst patients but those who are worse? Men who think they’re invincible, and Jake has always thought that about himself until his injury.
As I stand up I ensure to take note of all the different feelings in my body as I slowly begging to manoeuvre each of the different muscle groups in my lower regions, from my abs, to my hips, thighs, knee joints, calf’s, ankles, feet and each individual toe. I’m still connected to all the machines through the leads and I keep them connected for the time being.
I continue to hear more yelling coming from behind me and as I turn around I can see the male Medic trying to talk calmly with Jake but is promptly cut off as Jake’s Tail swings around clearly on the medical stands.
I can Hear Jake laugh, calling a “yeah” as he lifts and drops his arms and then he turns and locks eyes with me and he smirks, that signature Sully smirk that has gotten me into trouble way too many times in my life , but I always say to myself when my brother does something stupid, if you can’t stop him, join in for the ride of chaos.
“Sedate! Sedate him!” I hear one of the medics call out, “A thousand milligrams of Supitocam! Stat!” I watch as the female medic goes over to where they keep the sedative availed and it doesn’t shock me too much that they have it so readily nearby when working with avatars who are close to 9 feet tall.
I continue to watch the well lets face it comical scene unfold in front of me as Norm turns to look at me using both hands to gesture to Jake, “Aren’t you going to do something he’s your brother?”
‘Not gonna lie, I kind of wanna see how this plays out itself” I shrug as I continue smiling at Jake, I can hear him laughing and seeing him smile so hard that his canines are on full display, which in turn reminds me I have my own fangs now and run my tongue along them, gods that’s both creepy and cool.
Norm groans loudly at me as he turns back to my brother as he tumbles towards he window where I can see Malu beaming so hard at Him, and Max looks like he’s about to blow a fuse, his voice now coming over the PA system in the lab.
“Guys! Guys! Whoa! Whoa!” I can see Max lifting a hand up as if he can somehow reach through the glass and push Jae back down on the gurney himself. But I can see where Jake’s eyes have landed in this moment as I always watch as his ears swivel in her direction, he’s locked in on this feeling in this new body yes. But nothing in any world could beat the smile that has graced Malu’s face, he gaze keeps jumping between me and Jake not able to choose who holds her attention more in this moment.
Both norm and Max’s voices overlap with one another
“Jake, Come on man.”
“You’re not used to your avatar body.” Max takes a breath and looks down Trying to lock eyes with Jake, but he crouches a little at the window to ensure that he’s at level with Malu, “This is dangerous.”
“This is great.” He laughs again as he high fives the window where Malu’s hand is place and I can see her giggle through the screen, Max looks down at her as if she has just betrayed his whole entire family and I can’t help but snort. Norm looks back at me one time with pleading eyes.
I sigh, “Jake.” I call out and his gaze locks onto me and I can see the mischief swimming in his eyes. “They’re going to put you out.” I laugh out and shake my head at him.
“Jake listen to me” Max pleads one last time.
Jake keeps his eyes locked on mine and I can basically hear is thoughts that are echoing though them, ‘You know you wanna join me’. He then proceeds to walk towards the door laughing maniacally as he pushes past a few medics bumping into medical trays and pushes the door to the outside wide open and since he’s in a hospital gown I of course have to be subjected to a blue full moon of my brother.
I throw my head up towards the sky.
“Eywa, ‘m so sorry for what has just entered your domain.” I whisper up to the sky as I start to remove the different leads connected to my body.
I can hear Norm beginning to argue with the other medics as they tell him he’s also not ready and he needs o sit down. If a medic is also talking to me I’m not listening either. I look up towards Malu who waves at me excitedly and I wave back and give her a wink. AS I turn towards the door I can see medics putting their hands up in front of me but I simple move past them surprised at. How at ease I feel in this body, I always feel so clumsy in my human one but in this bod I fee more balanced- never mind I immediately tripped when exciting the second door, but I. to catch myself before eating a mouth full of dirt.
Once my eyes adjust to the light, I can see Jake running past a basketball court that has other avatars playing a one-on-one game which they immediately stop as they see him stumbling through and I grin. I can vaguely hear Norm and the other medics yelling at Jake to stop and to come back and Norm saying hat he’ll get him.
I start to pick up my pace to catch up to him watching as he narrowly misses some humans who are observing avatars on the obstacle courses. This place is incredible, Hurdles, climbing farms gardens off to the side. This is the avatar program camp that we were told about right outside hells gate facilities. And as I find myself standing in the same row as Jake looking down towards him as he starts to run Norm yelling in the background of my mind that we’re not supposed to run.
I take off Running after my brother, running with my brother for the first time in years and I start laughing. But as we’re running I see an Ampsuit coming up on the path
“Jake!” I yell as he umps narrowly missing a collision.
My heart and my head so full of emotions, emotions I couldn’t even begin to describe in this moment, Happiness, nerves, excitement, for longing of the thing that was robbed of him in the wars, returned to him on another planet in a new body.
I continue to chase after him and watch as he skids to a stop, Myself stopping use a few paces behind him as I watch him breathe heavily and deeply and take in all that’s around him. His face stops on mine as I take a few gingerly steps towards him as he grins at me all canines on full few and he gestures down towards his feet and his toes that he’s digging into the dirt.
“Vos, I can feel the dirt under my feet, hell I can feel my feet and my toes.” He laughs out as he continues to watch the ligaments move in the dirt.
I can’t respond to him my voice is lost in my throat and I think the only sounds that would come out right now are sobs, so I decide to throw my arms around his neck pulling him into a hug.
“that was extremely stupid of you little brother.” I say and he moves to wrap his own ams around me tightly and it feels so good to be wrapped in the comfort of my brother with him once again being able to stand taller than me, I can feel my tail whipping behind me in a way that indicates happiness and look down to see Jake’s own tail doing the same.
“You still followed after me.” He chuckles pulling back punching me on the should which I dramatically grasp with which was meant to be a fake groan of pain but honestly was a real one, cause in these bodies we are a lot stronger, from my medical studies roughly four times stronger than our human ones.
“Sully’s stick together Jakey, can’t go breaking the family motto just cause we’re on a different planet now.” I give him a taste of his own medicine as I punch him back in the should admittedly harder than what he did but were siblings what did you expect.
We both laugh with one another as another voice calls out from in front of us.
“Hey Marine, Doc.”
As Jake ad I both look up towards the voice were met with an avatar dressed in cargo shorts and a cropped Stanford top, beads in her hair and a Na’vi styled necklace around her neck. Both Jake and I utter a quiet Damn and side eye one another, what I never said I was straight, I appreciate both male and female physiques. I’ve always said its not about the vessel its about the person on the inside that counts.
“Grace?” Jake stumbles out as he finally picks his jaw of the floor, and I laugh at his shocked expression as he turns back to me and back to grace as she picks two Yovo fruit from the branch.
“Well who’d you expect, numbnuts?” Grace Laughs as she throws each of us a fruit, “Think fast!”
Jake Catches it easily but I fumble slightly before bracing the fruit against my chest, sighing thankfully I didn’t drop it.
“Motor control is looking good.” She nods but cocks her head towards me, “Mostly.” She laughs slightly; I feel my ears flatten slightly at her words and look down at the fruit which only makes her laugh some more at me.
Most Jake and I bite into the fruit and moan appreciatively at the taste, its probably been years if not eve since we tasted real fruit and feeling the ice drip down my chin all I can do is thank Eywa for this glorious creation of hers and the gardeners who obviously take care of the crops around the base.
Not gonna lie when I wrote the last line in chapter 5 I had George Ezra’s song shotgun playing in my head. Shot gun is kind of the vibes I get for Cori and Jake’s bond!
I apolgise for any mistakes, Chapter 5 is on the way but unfortunately may be getting posted tomorrow instead of today, as the day got away from me! but I can't believe I've already surpassed 20k words, I'm really happy with how we are traveling in the story! I promise we are going to see tsu'tey soon!
ENJOY!
Read on AO3 HERE
Word Count: 5.6k
Chapter 3 - Chapter 5
Chapter four
Walking towards the link room I can feel the nerves build up within me, I keep a tight grip on Malu’s hand as I walk behind the others. Truthfully I don’t know how Dr Augustine will react towards Malu being here, the only of the reason Malu even got approved to come is because of Dr Augustine’s school. They as in the people higher up then Dr Augustine thought it would be good for the Na’vi to have a human child to learn along side them. But I haven’t even begun to ask about the school yet and Max didn’t bring it up when seeing us, also with Malu’s new founded muteness I don’t think its going to be as they intended it to be.
I look down at Malu and as we step through into the Link room I can see her mouth drop in shock and awe, her head on a swivel as she keeps switching which side she wants to look at as an overhead voice calls out
“Attention. Drivers coming out of link.”
Max continues to lead us through the next set of doors as Norm talks to Jake. I think the reason Norm has taken such a lead in talking to Jake is because this is what Tommy did for him when they first met. Norm was nervous and social awkward teen when the three of us first met, stumbling over words and on more on one occasion he would blush if I ever put a hand on his shoulder or praised him on his work. He never necessarily had feelings towards me but I’m pretty sure I was probably his only female friend that didn’t immediately decide that he was too weird or nerdy to be around. I personally since becoming close to Norm I view him the same way I do Jake, a brother.
“Grace Augustine is a legend. She's the head of the Avatar Program, and she wrote the book, I mean literally wrote the book, on Pandoran botany.” Norm explains throwing a backward look towards Malu, knowing that Malu has read that book multiple times and can quote it basically word for word at this point.
Jake also throws a backward look towards Malu, nudging his chin towards her, “The book Malu always has her nose stuck in?” Malu looks up towards her uncle and gives a firm affirmative nod, causing a few chuckles to exit both myself and Jake.
Max also lets out a chuckle from the front, leaning a bit over his shoulder to add onto the conversation “Well, that’s because she likes plants better than people. Something I expect Malu and her may have in common.” Max winks at Malu and she hides behind Bagheera, but I can see the top of her ears turn red.
“Malu’s read the book multiple times, and when she couldn’t read, it was her number one request for a bedtime story.” I say as I pull her a bit closer to me as I can see scientists run around us, checking on the links ensuring that the drivers return to their bodies safely and not showing signs of any brain damage. Because I’ve done some study on the mind links, it can be quite dangerous for our minds to be ripped out of the links without any warnings, as we need to prepare our minds to come back to our human bodies.
“Who’s got my goddam cigarette!” A voice yells out in the other what quiet room, the only other sounds coming from the machines and shuffling’s of the other scientists.
Max walks us around the circular room’s inner consol control area, hands in his lab coat as he speaks out as we close in on the Dr Grace Augustine, “And here she is, Cinderella back from the ball.” Max then gestured to the group of us behind him and I put both my hands on Malu’s shoulder and keep her pressed against my front, as I eye the cigarette in between Grace’s fingers, should she really be smoking in here?
“Grace, I’d like you to meet Norm Spellman and the Sully’s, Corvus”
“Cori” I quickly interrupt, Max nods and then continues on,
Cori, Jake and Malu.” He finishes and turns back to Dr Augustine.
Dr Augustine looks over Jake but quickly dismisses him as her eyes go through to look both me and Malu down, letting out a sigh as it seems to linger on Malu, I tighten my grip more on her and feel my eyes start to harden my gaze towards her. Nervous about what she may try to say to Malu, but instead of regarding us with words she switches her gaze to Norm.
“Norm, I’ve heard good things, about you. How’s your Na’vi?”
I struggle to hold the scoff in my throat back, wow only bringing up the man who studies the same thing as you.
“May the All-Mother smile upon our first meeting.” Norm shifts a little on his feet holding a little tighter on his bag strap, sending a sidewards glance towards me, Considering I was the one who spent the most time teaching him Na’vi, besides Malu.
“Bit formal there Norm.” I say in Na’vi, I turn my gaze on Dr Augustine, and she takes a long drag on her cigarette.
“Not bad though, both of you.” Dr Augustine stare hardens down on me slightly, and I can’t help the small smirk that sneaks its way onto my face, Dr Augustine is used to be the smartest person in the room, that much I can tell. And she very much does not appreciate that I stepped in to speak on Norm’s Na’vi before her.
The three other men look back and forth between us, noticing that Dr Augustine and I seem to be locked in for some sort of battle of stares, Norm lets out a cough trying to bring attention away from how the tension seemed to notch up a level.
“There is still much to learn, I studied for 2 years before meeting Cori, she became my new teacher and Malu speaks fluently as well.”
This seems to surprise Dr Augustine, as her eyes widen slightly and her eyebrows furrow together and her gaze drops down to Malu and I feel her got stiff under my hands. I take a deep breath and squeeze her shoulders, trying to push a wave of calm and support through her body.
“You speak Na’vi child?” Dr Augustine questions tilting her head to the side, Malu quickly nods her head, Dr Augustine gestures with her hand as to say well go on then let’s hear it, Malu straightens instantly she goes to open her mouth but hesitates, shoulders slumping down and looks up at me her eyes show some fear and sadness and it breaks my heart a little bit, so I speak for her.
“With all due respect Dr Augustine but it’s been a long day and well week, she’s feeling a bit overwhelmed and not used to meeting so many strangers.” I raise my head and not going to lie but puff out my chest a little, as Jake would say Mother bear mode activated.
Grace lets out a sigh and mutters something under her breath that I barley hear but sounds similar to something like ‘fucking mothers and their cubs’. She takes another drag of her cigarette and I glare at it, she rubs her other hand along her eyes before pushing her hair back, “Dr Corvus Sully, 7I’ve heard quite a bit about you, the child prodigy, Einstein, brains and knowledge beyond her years.” She stops and looks right at me, “Too smart for her own good, I’ve heard as well.”
I let out a laugh, “I’ve heard too.” this probably wasn’t the best response, but she’s deciding who I am based on the words of scientists and professors on earth, who disliked me because I would question them constantly, I’d correct them in Na’vi language and culture, on different medical terms and practises, things that are my literally areas of expertise.
“Confidence is good cover for arrogance.” Grace says, I smile at her, I see Jake roll forward slightly towards me and goes to open his mouth, but I lift a hand slightly from Malu’s shoulder to tell him to stop.
“Only if you can’t back it up.” I switch to Na’vi and I see Grace’s nose flare slightly in anger.
“Grace.” Max calls out as the tension in the room rises between Grace and I’s stares, I feel Malu pull away from me slightly as she goes to stand by Jake holding his hand and Jake Immediately pulls her onto his lap. Grace Narrows her eyes slightly at the sight, “This is Jake Sully” Max gestures towards Jake, and I keep my eyes locked on Grace as I cross my arms over my chest, preparing myself for what may happen next with the way Grace is regarding Jake, especially with Malu sat with him one hand gripping his shirt the other hugging Bagheera close to her chest.
Jake rolls forward slightly, holding one arm around Malu keeping her securely against him and juts out his other hand as a sign of good will, “Ma’am” Grace Promptly ignores him and I can see Malu’s face change from sadness to disappointment, and I can’t help the flare of anger that floats through my whole body, the once hope I held onto that Dr grace Augustine might be the reason my daughter spoke again shirvled up inside of me and die. Now Dr Augustine is the reason for the silver tears that now line my daughters’ eyes.
“Yeah, yeah, I know who you are, and I don’t need you. I need your brother.” Grace says all this with a tone of utter disappointment, and it makes Malu jolt at it, Jake’s face tries to remain indifferent, but I see the guilt and anger flicker over his face as he pulls Malu closer to him holding her steady against his chest, her hand gripping tightly on his shirt as she leans closer into to him as if being closer to him would protect them both from the words Dr Augustine were spitting out.
Grace scoffs as she turns back to Max and I take a step forward to stand closer by Jake’s side, letting her know that if you insult one Sully you insult all, Tommy’s words ring in my mind ‘Sully’s stick together’.
“You know -- the PhD who trained three years for this mission.” Grace rolls her eyes as she speaks obviously annoyed at this occurrence and before I can stop the words coming out of my mouth I speak.
“He’s dead. Sorry for the inconvenience the death of my husband and father of my daughter is affecting you Dr Augustine.” I grip my arms tightly nails created crescent marks along my biceps.
Dr Augustine regards me for a second as she eyes the ring two rings that I’ve looped around my neck on a plain silver chain, both mine and Tommy’s wedding rings, I told him I didn’t want a second ring to signifies our wedding as the ring his mother gave me felt more than enough, plus we didn’t have a lot of money to spend on proper wedding bands, Tommy’s ring is a simple plain gold ring with small emeralds embedded in it that we found in a pawn shop one day, I managed to barter with the shop keeper to bring it down from $300 to $100 and we both just decided it was perfect, they matched perfectly.
Grace takes in a breath and turns back to Jake, “How much Lab training have you had?”
“I dissected a frog one.” Jake says blinking up at Grace innocently and it causes a small smile to inch onto my face, trust Jake to know exactly what to say to piss off a person him who regards him as lesser, gods he makes me proud.
Grace throws her hands down closing her eyes before turning back to Max, who’s leaning up against the glass wall that separates the inner consol from the rest of the room, arms crossed as he regards grace with a look of what I would discern as disappointment at how Grace is interacting with us.
“You see? You see? They’re pissing on us without even the courtesy of calling it rain.” Grace turns on us as she starts to storm away, “I’m going to Selfridge.”
“No, Grace!” Max’s eyes widen behind his glasses as he pushes himself up from the glass and starts to stalk towards Grace, “I don’t think that’s a good idea!” Max is yelling after Grace but she doesn’t stop moving away her voice though yelling becomes quieter as she moves away from us out of the link room.
“No Man, This is such Bullshit! I’m gonna kick his corporate butt.” Grace’s lab coat blows behind her as Max slows to a stop obviously knowing her well enough not to go after her in this moment, “He has no business sticking his nose in my department.”
Max pushes his glasses back on, sighing deeply before he moves closer to the four of us and claps his hands together, “Back here, tomorrow, 0800.” He then points at Jake who raises an eyebrow at him, “Try and use big words” I let a snort out, as I watch Jake’s face contort as he takes in Max’s words following Max’s movements as he then moves past us all smiling and nodding to us.
Jake Turns to look at me, “Use big words?” he lets out slowly, I shrug my shoulders at him.
“I can get you a thesaurus?” I smile down at him, he laughs chest shaking slightly and a small whine exists Malu as she squirms slightly trying to find a more comfortable position, my eyes train down to her who’s eyes are beginning to droop as the exhaustion of the day finally starts to way on her. I go to grab her from Jake but he shakes his head.
“Nah, I got her.” He adjusts her slightly she her head can rest comfortable on his chest, and her knees on either side of his own so she doesn’t fall off as he use’s his hands to push himself forward on the rails of his wheels.
I smile down at the sight, Jakes been doing this with her since he got discharged, as it would be difficult for him to roll if one of his hands were not in use and he hates it when people try to push him in his chair. It makes him feel less then when that happens.
“So…” Norm bounces from one foot to the other turning his body to face Jake and myself, “That’s Dr Grace Augustine.”
My lips form into a thin line as I hum a sound of agreement, Turning towards the exit, with Malu asleep I think its time we actually go and find our sleeping quarters.
“She’s kind of bitch.” Jake says and I turn to him and pointedly look down at Malu, Jake looks at me and gestures to her, “Kids dead asleep and plus she’s definitely heard both of us say worse.”
I roll my eyes, turning back around continuing to lead us out of the lab, even though I know Jakes right and Malu has most definitely heard every curse word under earths sun, it doesn’t mean I don’t try to keep it G rated for my daughter.
“Yeah… Maybe she was just tired from the link hopefully it will be better tomorrow.” Norm says trying to stay positive, I smile despite him not being able to see my face right now.
I do hope he’s right and Dr Augustine’s less than happy response to Jake’s appearance and her interactions with me are just from being tired from the link. But with the way she stormed out to go and complain to Selfridge, makes me think that there is a lot more shit going on within the program. I mean it has been six years since we left earth who knows what happened in that time.
“And tomorrow is going to be a great day,” Norm continues and I can hear the eagerness in his voice, “We get to link up for the first time.”
¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬
Norm and Jake decide that its probably a good Idea to get some food before going to sleep considering we technically haven’t eaten anything for the past 6 years. Jake tells me that he’ll bring me some food after, since Malu’s asleep and I want to get her settled into bed. We found our dorms pretty easily; I was happy to know that I wouldn’t have to share a room since I had Malu with me but turns out Jake would now be rooming with Norm who had originally asked for a solo room and offered extra money to get it. Now with Tommy passing away, though Jake and I have shared rooms before when we used to do sleep overs, I felt a bit weird about sharing a bed with him. Norm wasn’t too happy about this discovery but kept his opinion relatively to himself and accepted his new roommate.
Once I got Malu set up on the bottom bed all tucked into the lumpy mattress, snuggled into her dads sweater, Bagheera tucked in underneath her chin, I watched her for a few minutes as her chest rise and fall. I kept my hand on her chest to, using the slow thumps of her heart to ease my own anxieties.
We had made it, we made it to Pandora and our first day, was both incredible but also kind of shitty. I let out a deep breath as I pushed up from the bed rubbing my arms as I moved towards our bags. We weren’t allowed to pack much, it was 1 duffle bag and a backpack per person. It was mostly clothes, shoes and couple of personal items, I made sure to pack Tommy’s coleon for Malu, Dr Augustine’s book and a copy of the jungle book as well. I had also grabbed the scrapbook that Virgina had started for Malu filled with family photos and milestone moments of her, when Virgina passed Tommy continued it on for her, it was only halfway through, its last two entrances in it being from my graduation and Malu’s fifth birthday party. I smile as I flick through it, before placing it on the metal desk.
It doesn’t take me long to pack everything else away, I was surprised to see that my laptop and hard drives survived the trip though, they warned me that the travel my fry the motherboard but when I booted it up it sprung to life and all my files that were on the laptop and the added hard drives were completely fine. You see there’s another reason I was accepted into the Avatar program; they want me to write a book on the Na’vi’s culture, they want me to get close with them and collect information and data about the intricacies of the clan. Now I didn’t exactly like the idea of doing this, but when you are drowning in medical debt from the deaths of your mother, brother and now Tommy, cause dying isn’t cheap. You tend to say yes when the big government officials offer you more money.
I hadn’t started writing anything for it yet but I chosen a title, ‘Life of the Na’vi through new eyes.’ Yeah I kind of hate it too, but I had to give the higher ups something to prove that I agreed to their terms of writing the book. They also want me to create an easier to publish English to Na’vi dictionary as well, this was a little bit easier to stomach and start. I stare at the word doc on my computer trying to will myself to write, but as I glare at the blinking line that tells me I’ve written nothing I close the document and move to the folder where I kept all my favourite movie’s maybe it’s a brother bear sort of night.
But before I can click on the movie I hear a knock at my door, thinking that its probably Jake with some food for me I close the laptop, and stand making sure I don’t scrap the metal chair on the floor and wake Malu from her sleep. But even when the chair scraps and makes a piercing metal on metal sound, Malu continues to dose. Yep she’s my kid sleeps through anything and everything.
I make my way towards the door and my smile drops as instead of looking down towards my dear brother bringing me some dehydrated food packs that honestly probably taste better than some of the food back on earth. I come face to face with none other than Dr Grace Augustine, who if I’m being honest doesn’t look to happy about this either, but she is carrying a tray of food which she promptly shoves towards my chest, I raise an eyebrow at her muttering a small thank you, eyeing her suspiciously cause why the fuck is she standing in front of my dorm room. I’ve currently got a white tank top and grey sweat pants on and yes a pair of fluffy blue socks cause the floor is metal and cold.
“I think we might’ve gotten off on the wrong foot and if we are going to be working together I need to make sure that everyone who is on my team is here for the right reasons.” I nod as I move towards the desk pushing my laptop back and placing the tray in its place I lean back on the desk, crossing my arms and nudge my head at her to announce that she may enter.
I see her clench and unclench her fists and before she says anything I point to Malu and then to my lips, hoping to convey that she needs to keep her voice down. She doesn’t need to know that Malu is a deep sleeper. She pushes another breath out of her mouth, and she lowers her voice as she speaks.
“I am sorry to hear about Tommy’s passing, but when I heard that his twin brother who’s an ex-marine with no knowledge or experience working in science or a lab was taking his place.” She takes another breath as if to try and stamp out the fire of anger that I can see swirling in her vision, “It felt like Selfridge and all those government assholes were just taking the piss out of this program.”
“And not even giving the curtesy of calling it rain.” I say mimicking her words from our previous interactions, this makes her let out a laugh although it probably seems a little bit forced, I can’t help the grin that spreads across my face as I regard her. I look her up and down, from memory I believe Grace is in her fifties and she does look good for her age, but as I take her in I can see the tiredness and stress that weighs heavily on her. She’s been on Pandora for almost 20 years maybe more at this point, she’s put her heart and soul into this project and knowing that the higher ups of Sci-Ops and the RDA, still can take control away from her, I do understand her anger and frustration of Jake being here, but it still doesn’t give her the right to speak down to him.
“I do get it Dr Augustine, I get your frustration and anger, but you can’t take it out on Jake.” She looks down slightly, and I can see that she might feel some guilt towards how she interacted with him. “He already feels guilty enough that he’s here and not Tommy.” I glance over to Malu at this statement, and Grace follows my gaze and a small smile forms on her face, it makes her look softer, younger, but as quickly as it came it left, she turns back to me.
“She’s actually the reason I came to talk to you.” Grace gestures over at Malu, and I immediately straighten up from my position taking a step forward placing a hand out bracing myself so I blocked Malu from Grace’s sight.
“What do you mean?” My gaze hardens at her, as I try to read all the micro expression that pass through her eyes, my hands clenching nails biting into my skin of my palms.
“The school…” She whispers eyes looking down taking a moment to collect herself before she moved them to lock with my own. “two years ago, they shut the school down.” I can see her eyes fill with pure sadness as she speaks of it, “A group of Na’vi kids were decided that they were going to attack a bulldozer, they were so angry cause the RDA was not respecting the rules and boundaries the Omatikaya clan had set in place. They set it on fire, the kids” Grace clears her throat, this obviously is very hard for her to talk about and I take a step forward, to possible over some sort of comfort but Grace promptly shakes her head and puts her hands up telling me to stop. “The kids came to the school, thinking I could protect them, but the RDA followed them and gunned them down.”
My mouth dropped in shock, kids they killed kids for protecting their land, their home. Gods if I already didn’t hate the RDA and guns before, this sealed my hatred and wariness of them for good.
“Its why I’m nervous about Jake.” This makes me furrow my eyebrows, my heart is pounding thinking about those kids and their poor families that had to learn about their deaths, about the kids who probably saw the massacre. About Grace, who by the looks of her face feels as though she failed these kids cause she couldn’t protect them, but who would think that people would really shoot at kids,- Marines, Marines following their orders and never questioning them or thinking for themselves.
“Why are you nervous about Jake?” I find myself asking, I’m positive I know the reason but the security of her answer is needed in this moment.
“Because I’ve read his file, I know he’s ex-marine, and once a Marine.” Grace sighs rubbing her forehead.
“Always a marine.” I mutter, Grace lips thin as she nods, “I can keep him in check, always have and always will.” I say.
Grace nods at me, and lets out a laugh, “Believe me I have no doubts about that, but Jake isn’t the reason I came to talk to you, I did need to come and talk to you about Malu since the school is closed.”
It dawns on me in that moment that with the school closed, and with a massacre like that happening, there is very little chance of the Omatikaya clan allowing it to be open. Which means Malu doesn’t exactly have a place to go to now. I look down at the ground taking in a shaking breath, surly Grace isn’t here to tell me that I have to send Malu back to earth, she doesn’t have anybody there, she only has Jake and me left. I can’t and I won’t let them take my daughter from me, as if sensing my turmoil in me Grace speaks up.
“I’m not here to tell you were shipping your daughter back.” Grace speaks quickly but firmly, and the answer allows me to let out a shaky breath as I turn my attention back on her, “But we do need to come up with a solution of what she’s going to do on the days that your in your avatar, it does seem a bit unfair to keep her locked up in this room for the rests of her days here.” Grace lets out a small lab as she gestures round at the sad metal room void of any personality.
“She loved working in the labs back on Earth, Tommy and I took her to most of our avatar training days, She knows how to be respectful in the lab, she knows not to touch anything. I know its not the best solution, but your right she can’t be stuck in here.” I don’t even care if my voice comes off as pleading as I gesture around the room, I take a step towards Grace, “Please dr Augustine, she won’t be any trouble.”
Grace looks conflicted her gaze darting back and forth between Malu and myself, she lets out a sigh and before she opens her mouth to answer her eyes catch her book on the desk. The book is fairly old now as it was my own copy I bought before Malu claimed it as her own, you can clearly see how well used it is, the edges slightly crinkled but attempted to be flattened out again the spine covered in creases from where it has been opened, over and over again and graces eyes furrow slightly at it, I follow Grace’s gaze to the book.
“It was mine, but Malu claimed it as her own, she’s read almost every single night since she had the ability to read and before that, it was basically a choice between are we reading the jungle book or Dr Augustine’s book that night for bedtime.” I move over to the table smiling as I pick up the book and pass it to Grace, “She would mark which ones were her favourites, using a colour coded system, red for should never touch, green for good to touch, yellow for its kind of ugly and pink for this is the cutest thing ever.” Grace raises an eyebrow at that chuckling as she flips through the book, “her words not mine.” I sigh a little as I lean back on the desk, “I’d honestly give anything to hear her words again.” I look over at Malu watching her chest rise and fall her nose scrunching slightly as she raises a hand to scratch it before dramatically rolling over to the other side. I snort at her, theres the sully blood shining through.
“She’s not talking right now?” Grace inquires and my head slowly turns to her as I nod.
“Hasn’t said a word since her father’s funeral, I was actually hoping meeting you would make her want to talk again, she had a list of questions she wanted to ask you.”
Grace looks down at the book again and then towards Malu, “Well, I hope she gains to the courage to ask me based on some of the annotations she wrote, is she truly only five years old.”
I smile despite the pain of not knowing when I would hear Malu’s voice again and hum in agreement to Grace, “She was speaking both Na’vi and English by the time she was two and has picked up quite a bit of Gaelic over the years as well, reading and writing came by the time she was four and half. She just always wanted to learn and whenever she heard the words no or you’re too young she wanted to prove otherwise. I never wanted to squander her curiosity and childcare aint cheap, so she ended up coming with me to all my lectures for when I was studying for my medical degree and then as well to all the avatar program classes, and if she wasn’t at my classes she was Tommy. Except the days where she wasn’t allowed to join, then she was with Jake. I know what its like to be a child prodigy, and I wanted to ensure that she got what she needed, without the pressure of actual teachers telling her what to do.” Like what I went through, but Grace doesn’t need to know about the Trauma of my schooling life.
Grace nods and looks at Malu, “She’s quite impressive then, I do remember seeing some videos of your class for the program and her being there, if it wasn’t you correcting the professors it was her.” Grace points at Malu and the memories of red-faced professors full of anger and embarrassment that a 4-year-old was correcting them still fresh in my mind.
“I’m surprised they hadn’t kicked us out because of it.” I laughed.
Grace scoffed, “I don’t even think that would’ve stopped you both.”
I smiled at this, “You’re right on that front.”
Grace places the book back on the table and looked at me and her hand came out in front of her, “Good evening, I am Dr Grace Augustine, and I look forward to working with you starting from tomorrow”
I smile at her reaching my own hand out gripping it tightly, “And I am Dr Corvus Katrina Jones-Sully, linguistic expert on the Na’vi language and culture, and Trauma surgeon for human and Na’vi anatomy, respectfully. And I too look forward to working with you, starting from tomorrow.”
Grace nods towards me and makes her way towards the door but not before stopping just before pushing the button. “You trust your brother, to behave?” Grace looks over her shoulder at me, her eyes pleading.
“Sorry Doc, I don’t think you’ll like my answer” I say with a smile, “But he has a good heart. A jarhead may be what he is, but I know my brother, he cares and is quite adaptable, it might be good to have him, and who knows maybe he might surprise you?”
Grace pushes the door open, muttering “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
Ended up deciding to have meeting Grace in the next Chapter, because apparently I like to waffle on alot and I really wanted to get this chapter out tonight for you all! as always I did proofread but I do expect some mistakes to slip through feel free to tell me if you spot any!
Read on AO3 HERE
Word count: 5.99k
Chapter 2 - Chapter 4
Chapter 3:
Once the briefing is over, Malu decides that she’s had enough of being carted around by her uncle and ops to walk slightly ahead of the two of us, and with his lap now free I promptly drop his and my own bag on his lap while still shouldering Malu’s. We weave between people in the halls, thankfully they make space for Jake to easily wheel through, but not without throwing curious or shocked faces to both him and the little girl who’s eyes dart everywhere trying to take it all in.
I hear him before I see him, all 6.2feet of lanky limbs and barley any coordination in them as I hear him say sorry to a bunch of people he’s bowling over with his duffel. I slow my pace as I hear him call out to me and I turn around in time to be greeted by a bear hug by the man.
“Hey, it’s so good to see a familiar face, fuck we made it Cori. We’re on Pandora” Norm throws his arms up in the air and Jake has to duck quickly to not get it socked in his face, before I respond to Norm and offer introductions Norm turns to face Jake, “Hey, you’re Jake right? Tom’s brother? You look just like him” Jake raises an eyebrow at the man, and spares me a slight glance as if to say, ‘He didn’t actually just say that to me.’
I let out a sigh, tilting my head and giving it a slight shake, Norm now suddenly realising that telling someone they look like their twin is probably not the proper edict for this situation thrusts out his hand towards Jake.
“Sorry, I’m Norm Spellman. As you probably no from Cori I went through Avatar training with the two of them.” Jake gives him a tight smile and takes the offered hand probably squeezing it a little bit too tight for emphasis, “He was a great guy, funny too, and of course an amazing Father-“ that makes him pause for a second as he gaze turned back to me, “I’m sorry by the way, it was a shock to all of us” Norm places his hand on my shoulder giving it a squeeze and I mouth the words thank you in his direction, then a I feel as little hands grip the side of my shirt and I look down to see the Malu wandered back towards us noticing that we had stopped and moved slightly off to the side to converse with Norm.
Norm upon noticing Malu immediately smiles and crouches down to her level, and gives her head a quick ruffle. “Hey Malu, you’ve gotten bigger since I last saw you, how have you been?” I stiffen slightly, knowing that Malu still hasn’t spoken a single word to anyone, but the last time Norm saw her she was the biggest chatter box, switching between English and Na’vi without even thinking about it.
Malu just gives a tight smile (basically identical one that Jake gave, apparently all Sully’s have the same I don’t really want to talk to you, but I’ll be polite smile.) Norm noticing the silence that comes from Malu and turns back to me eyebrows furrowing, I just shake my head slightly. “We should start heading towards the Lab.” I say to try and move the conversation forward, so I don’t get sad about the fact I haven’t heard my daughters voice in over a week(Technically years if we thinking chronologically but who’s counting Cyro sleep these days).
The four of us then continue making our way down towards the labs, myself holding hands with Malu to keep her close to ensure I wouldn’t lose sight of her and to make sure she wouldn’t touch anything in the lab. Not that I don’t trust her, she’s been to enough labs in her life to know to look and never to touch unless her dad was specifically showing her something that allowed her to be more involved. Norm decides to walk beside Jake a few paces in front of us and bless his heart tries to start another conversation.
“And Sorry about before, I mean like, Obviously you look like him. I mean if you weren’t genetically identical, you wouldn’t be taking over his avatar!” Norm expresses himself enthusiastically, because whenever we would talk about our Avatars Norm would indeed get very excited about it, it brings a smile to my face to see his enthusiasm, but I do know that Jake is not going to be very appreciative of it.
“That’s why I’m here.” Jake mutters, as we reach the entrance to the lab. The door opens with a mechanical hiss, and I feel goosebumps appear on my skin.
This is where it begins, this is what all my hard work, studying, late nights, sleepless nights, this is what it was all working towards. This is where my Avatar will be, I gaze down at Malu and I find her looking up at me smiling too. She maybe a kid, but my daughter knows all too well how hard I worked for this too, the amount of times that I would fall asleep on the couch or at my desk and when I woke up I’d find a mug of water (Because like me my daughter agrees water tastes better in a mug) and a blanket wrapped around me, the mug often being cushioned by a drawing of some sort of earth or Pandorian animal.
She’s been there since the beginning of my training and on the days, she was allowed to come in, she learnt things as well, which is why I hope that what I’ve been wanting to add to my contract for Malu to get her own Avatar one day comes to fruition.
I vaguely hear Norm Walking around introducing himself to any of the scientist in the room, as an avatar driver. But Much like Jake my gaze and my feet take me to the three massive pods that have just been moved into the lab, and my face breaks out into the biggest grin, they’re here and they’re real, and fuck I really am here too. I can’t help it as I give Malu’s hand a squeeze and she squeezes my hand right back, I know she’s just as excited as I am, as we have talked about this for years, gods I probably talked to her about it in the womb as well.
Our Avatars, made from our own human DNA and mixed with the Na’vi they grew on the flight over from earth and we are able to remotely control them through our minds with the use of the Mind link beds. I can clearly see that mine is in the first one and before I can hold her back from running in the lab, Malu races over to the Pod that contains my avatar. Her face jumps back from the avatar to me and I can see her jumping up and down slightly from excitement. I move over to stand next to her leaning forward to take a closer look.
I know the avatars are made to look like us because they use our DNA but honestly I’m truly shocked at how much she really does look like me. Upon first glance, you would think that you were looking at a native Na’vi but once you truly look, you can see the difference that will tell us apart from the natives. She has four fingers and a thumb, unlike the natives 3, same with the toes while humans and the avatars have 5 the Navi have 4, eyebrow hairs which the Na’vi don’t have.
It is also a little unnerving to truly see how big they are in comparison to ourselves, I only come up to about 5.5-5.6feet on a good day but my avatar she has to be at least 8foot tall and looking at her floating in the Amnio tank, with a synthetic umbilical cord attached to the belly button. I smile down at Malu looping my arms around her and giving her a quick kiss on her cheek, as it reminds me that’s how I was once connected to her, though due to complications Tommy didn’t get the chance to cut it, as the cord had wrapped itself around Malu’s neck. But the doctors and nurses acted quickly to resolve the issue before any permanent damage could’ve occurred.
With Norm jogging up towards Jake, I gentle nudge Malu away from the tank in the direction of the other men as Dr Max Patel(Told you I studied up on the personnel) walks towards us.
“Hey, Welcome.” Max offers his hand to Jake to shake, and I hear Jake mutter a quiet hey back, but I can see that his eyes are wide with fasciation as he stares up at the massive tanks, “Welcome to Pandora. Good to have you.”
Max offers me a hand shake as well and I can’t help but grin up at him, Max is one of the few scantiest here that I’m aware of that has also opted to stay on Pandora permanently alongside Dr Augustine. Max peers down at Malu and leans down to be more at her level and I see as he puts his hand in his pocket and pulls out a red lollipop, (This is a smart move from the scientist, sweets is the way into Malu’s good books)
“You must be Malu, I’ve heard some very good things about you, as I know you joined your parents for a lot of the Avatar program classes.” Max smiles at Malu as she looks up towards me, I know she’s looking for permission to have the lollipop, because I did always teach her to never take anything from strangers without asking myself, Tommy or Jake first, well I guess only Jake and I now. I nod at her with a smile and instead of speaking with thank you, she gestures in ASL and takes the Lollipop with a smile, not big, not small but genuine and my heart melts at the sight.
I always thought it was important for her to know basic ASL, as its quite easy to remember if you use it often enough and since Malu has been mute since her fathers passing its become quite useful.
Max stands back up looking pleased with himself that he interacted positively with Malu and looks at me, “I’m really excited to have you here Dr Sully. I look forward to working with you” He offers me his hand again, which I gladly take.
“Believe me the pleasure is all mine, Dr Patel and please, just Cori is fine.” In reality I don’t really like being called Dr Sully, when I got my first PHD I was Dr Jones, and that felt earnt like I was proving I was more than what my parents expected of me, and rebelling against what my father wanted for me too. But hearing Dr Sully now, just reminds me that the man that gave me that name, the man that gave me a true family is gone now. I am glad I changed my name, but even though marrying Tommy wasn’t something I truly wanted, it gave me a name to be proud of it gave me something more to share with my best friend, with my daughter and with Jake my brother.
“Then Max for me too then.” Max smiles at me again and offers the same one to Malu as he gives her a thumbs up as she pops the lollipop in her mouth (Grape flavour for those wondering). I take the wrapping from her hand and shove it into one of my front pockets, hoping I remember to put it in the bin before laundry day, because I never got into the habit of checking pockets in things before turning the washing machine on. Probably the reason Tommy decided to be in charge of the laundry throughout the whole time we lived together.
“Damn! They got big.” Jake lets out a laugh as he comes to a full stop in front of the tanks, his head and eyes moving around as he takes it all in, his gaze dropping to Malu as she taps him on the arm to show him her newly secured sweet treat, his hand comes down to rest on her head giving her a quick Kiss on the forehead. The gesture makes me smile, there’s no bond quite like a Neice and her favourite uncle, makes me wonder on how Pheonix may have been with her.
“Yeah, They mature on the flight out.” I say as I gesture towards the tanks, “Looks like the proprioceptive sims worked really well.” I step past Jake as I Move to stand in between Norm and Max, Max then hits the screen that shows the avatars medical data and I almost gasp at the muscle tone levels, I step closer to Max inspecting the data to make sure I’m reading it right, “Holy sh-shoot, look at the muscle tone levels, that’s insane, like I knew it would be good, but I honestly thought it would be significantly less than the Native Na’vi, but no it matches it, based on the documentation and data we’ve gotten over the years.” My eyes are wide as I look towards the other data on the screen, blood levels, bone density, fertility levels-okay why do we need that- everything. I may have studied Na’vi anatomy and gotten my medical license to be able to perform surgery on the Na’vi but this is the first time I’m seeing it in person and not in a simulation, well as close to the Na’vi as I can get, as these are only Avatars.
But based on the research that went into them the Avatars are the Same as the Na’vi on the inside. It does make me shutter a bit as I know they probably had to fact check the similarities and the differences to the avatar and Na’vi bodies and believe me I may be a surgeon who has cut people open to save their lives before, its different when its another person doing it for the science of the matter and not for saving lives.
“I know and don’t get too excited, its still going to take us a few hours to get them decanted but you guys can take them out tomorrow.” Max smiles at me as he speaks, and I turn to Norm and it takes everything in me not to squeal, and I can tell by the look on his face, that we both want to jump up and down in excitement.
“There’s yours.” Max points at the tank one over from Norm’s which just like my own, looks exactly like him up taller and bluer, I didn’t even realise I had moved past the other tank without looking, but I think a part of me subconsciously knew who was in it and wasn’t quite ready for the wave of grief and sadness that may wash over.
But my gaze does follow where Max points and I see out of the corner of my eye Jake start to turn towards it too, Malu stepping ahead of him to walk around to the other side of the tank, I follow along after the two staying near the end of the tank, not quite ready to look at it. I watch as Malu moves to stand right in front of the tank right near where the head is floating in the amniotic fluid, one of her little hands goes to touch the glass resting there and leans her forehead against the glass, the body just like the other avatars moves and jerks around in the tank, and I hear the faintest giggle leave Malu’s lips. I feel a lump grow in my throat as I watch her blink back some tears, but the smile on her face is uncanny, she misses her dad I have no doubt about it, but this was her fathers dream and she gets to see it in person and she gets to have her uncle here too. Jake is not a replacement for Tommy, he will never been Malu’s father, but I know that Malu would take Jake being here with us knowing that her dads avatar is going to be used instead of just being tossed aside.
Jake rolls up right behind Malu and places a supportive hand on her back rubbing it up and down soothingly. Jake’s always been gentle and soft with Malu, and I know that he loves her just as much as I do, I mean genetically speaking if we were to run a DNA test Jake would appear as her father because him and Tommy are identical twins. It’s why from ages 2.5-3.5 I convinced Malu to call him Uncle daddy, neither Tommy or Jake approved or like this nickname, but Malu and I thought it was hilarious.
Norm and Max move around the tank watching Malu and Jake, Norm places a reassuring hand on my shoulder giving it a squeeze, I place my hand on top of his and we both just stood together for a second in mutual grief. Me over the father of my child, my best friend and well yes husband, and him a fellow scientist and friend.
“Looks like him.” Jake calls out as the Avatar body shifts showing more of his face towards Jake, Malu turns from the glass shaking her head at her uncle, this causes me to furrow my eyebrows tilting my head in confusion at her refusal of the statement, but I watch as she begins to move her hands.
“No- like you” she signs.
I can’t help the smile that grows on my face and as I look towards Jake, I can see the tension visibly leaving his body. I know he probably feels like he got approval from Malu, Approval to use the avatar that was attended for her father before he was struck down years before any of us would’ve been ready to handle. I feel Norms hand leave my shoulder as he steps forward.
“This is your avatar now, Jake.” Norm moves closer towards the tank and kneels slightly to be more at level with Malu, who looks between her uncle, to Norm and back to the avatar, placing her hand back to the glass but not before giving a decisive nod to Norm, nonverbally announcing her agreement.
I move to step closer to the group, and place a hand on Jake’s should and I lean down to whisper to him, “I checked my Avatar’s older than yours by a full 24 hours, so when we are linked up I’m finally the older sibling.” I can’t help the grin that spreads across my face as I hear Jake groan his head dropping down as he shakes it.
Greif doesn’t go away, and I don’t think I’ll ever stop grieving Tommy, but what I can do is keep living for him. I can love our daughter, annoy our brother, I can live out the dream we both have of being on Pandora, studying Pandora, exploring Pandora, meeting the natives, getting to learn and explore their culture first hand not through textbooks and classes. Actually, living and breathing on Pandora’s soil, and most importantly respecting it.
Maybe actually taking up a religion as I learn more about Eywa, even back on earth I felt a connection towards the Na’vi deity, she reminded me more of the old Celtic, roman and Greek gods that I spent most of my life learning about when I wasn’t doing my studies for my medical licence or my Linguistics PHD. The adhd in my brain went hard for those old gods, and Eywa well she seemed a lot cooler than the Christian god everyone talks about on earth, I’m not saying this to be mean but if there was a god on earth, he certainly didn’t care enough in the end to try and help humanity fix a dying planet. But in a way if we did follow through with those Christian beliefs god created the world and everything in it and it wasn’t until humanity entered the picture that we truly saw the slow but eventual death of our once beautiful planet, god probably hoped and prayed himself that the people he created would take care of his creations, well god if you are real, you were mighty wrong on that front and we probably could of used some divine intervention.
Location: Pandora Age: 22 Month: May
Max, Norm and I were huddled together as Max showed us more of the readings and data of the avatars and other research the lab was in the mist of handling. He had also shown us which each station in the lab are set up, which included showing us both to our own respected lab and research stations which were completely bare and ready for us to add our own personal flair too. Knowing myself I give it a day before my desk looks as if a hurricane hit it and no one would understand the systems I have in place, Tommy would jokingly say that my desks back at home were controlled chaos and only I had the sypher and knowledge to understand how it works.
The amount of times Tommy would go to my desk looking for research papers and stare at the mess thinking that the papers were lost forever, but he would call out to me and it would take me all of two seconds to find exactly what he was looking for. It always left him in shock and awe that to him my desk was a mess but to me it just matched how my brain feels. Especially on the days when I would forget to take my medication, which was often unless Tommy placed it directly into my hand and pass me a glass of water. Which now reminds me I probably didn’t take my meds this morning.
But as the three of us are huddled together, staring at the computer screens my attention split down the middle, as I keep looking over at Jake as he completes his first video log. Malu is perched up on a stool next to him giggling slightly as he slowly spins her around, Malu had to help Jake get the log set up, going slow to show Jake how to pull up the Camera, how to log into his own personal account that would keep track of all of his entries. I’m kind of impatiently waiting for him to finish, because I want to complete my own as soon as possible, because Max mentioned that Dr Augustine would be coming out of her Link soon and I was excited to mee the woman.
Not only is she one of the first of the 20 original Avatars, she’s in charge of the whole Avatar program, she’s also Malu’s idol. If Malu wasn’t requesting to watch or read the Jungle book, she was asking Tommy and I to show her all of Dr Augustine’s books, and since Malu is my daughter not to boast or anything but she’s a little bit of a child prodigy just like myself, she’s been reading and writing since she was about 4.5 years old and by the time she turned five she had practically memorised the books that Dr Augustine wrote and a part of me hopes that maybe meeting her Idol it might be enough to get her to speak again.
“Now the concept is that every driver is matched to their own avatar, so their nervous systems are in tune. Or something. Which is why they offered me this gig, because I can link with Tommy’s avatar,” Jake stops for a second to look towards Malu who smiles at him and urges with her hands to keep going, but he gestures for her to come closer, “which was insanely expensive.” He puts a hand in front of his mouth as he pretends whispers to her, causing her to lift Bagheera up to her face to hide her smile.
She seems to be smiling easier here, probably because we’re in a lab and she basically grew up in labs with her always joining Tommy and I to work or to study days. Malu didn’t go to a nursery when she was on earth cause Tommy and I couldn’t really afford it, we were very lucky and fortunate that the labs we worked at allowed us to bring her with us, we just had to sign a contract that said if she ever got injured or got any viral illness some of the labs were working on they wouldn’t be held responsible.
Jake then turns his body towards myself and the others.
“Is this right? I just say whatever in these video logs?”
I really didn’t do a good enough job to prepare Jake for all the research portion of taking up Tommy’s avatar. Part of me forgets that logging all the information either in video, written or hell even just recording your voice which I’m usually partial too, cause my hands usually aren’t fast enough for my brain to write down everything I want to say. I usually look insane in video logs, as my hair is never washed and I’m probably wearing the same outfit for the third day in a row cause I’ve either not left the lab or picked up the same outfit that I’ve thrown on the floor when getting home the night before.
“Yeah. You just need to get in the habit of documenting everything -- what you see, what you feel. It” Norm takes the pen out of his mouth as both he and Max turn to Jake, as he stares at the three of us expectantly, Norm looks back down at the tablet gesturing with his hand “Its all part of the science.”
I move away from the two still holding my new company given tablet flicking through absentmindedly at different projects and research pieces that are currently on the way within the program. I pull out the chair that’s next to Jake and promptly drop into it as lean back tilting my head in Jake’s direction, quoting something Tommy would tell me all the time as I used to be awful at keeping observations on projects we worked on together. I may be a doctor and have a PhD in linguistics, but I’m not exactly a scientist, not in the way Tommy was, doctors are more viewed as practitioners of the applied sciences rather than actually being a Scientist, though my study through Linguistics of the Na’vi language and culture is considered a science, I don’t exactly fall under the same category as Norm and Max or any of the other scientists in the lab.
“Good science starts with good observation.” I smile at him, he scoffs slightly at me turning back to the camera as Malu leans forward and helps him adjust the angle. “Plus it will probably help to keep us all sane for the next six years.”
“Right. So, whatever. Here I am. Doing Science” I snort a little at him which makes him glare at me where I promptly show him my middle finger before quickly hiding it before Malu can see, she probably does, Jake shows one back which I mockingly gasp at hitting him with the tablet on the shoulder. (Which I probably shouldn’t do cause these are probably very expensive) Jake dramatically rubs at where I hit him causing me to roll my eyes at him, he can be such a baby sometimes, but I will admit its slightly endearing to watch him look around the lab, he probably hasn’t been in one before and the labs I remember us having at our high school do little justice to true science and research facilities.
“Well, Never been in a lab before unless you count high school biology-
“I don’t” I interrupt not looking up from the tablet where I’ve pulled up a file detailing the different Na’vi clans that live on Pandora. It’s amazing to me from a linguistics standpoint that even though all clans worship the same goddess, that each of them still have their own different cultures and traditions within their own communities, it reminds me of some of the Indigenous cultures I’ve researched and studied back on earth. I know as part of this program we are only interacting with Omatikaya clan, I do hope one day I could be blessed with the privilege and well honour as well of visiting some of the reef Na’vi clans such as the Metkayina.
“This is all new to me, Tommy was the scientist, he’s meant to be the one in this chair, and would be able to tell you all about the science mumbo jumbo that’s happening around me.” Jake gestures his hand around in the air, and his words make me look up from the tablet, he leans forward slightly resting his arms on the desk, and I see him rest his forehead on them, “he should be here not me” Jake whispers that last part but as I Pull the chair closer to him I hear it, I lean forward and stop the recording, Malu then grabs the keyboard and mouse and saves the file to the drive and labels it accordingly to how Max had explained it to us.
“Hey, don’t talk like that, Tommy would be so proud of you for taking over for him.” I manoeuvre the tablet on the desk placing one hand on his back and the other on his forearm, “Though he definitely would of told you, that you need to be more descriptive next time.” Jake lets out a breathy laugh as he leans back on his chair and he nods along with my words, I know he doesn’t want to talk about Tommy yet, he’s not ready for that conversations, and fuck I’m not ready for that conversation either. But this is how Jake and I work, it’s why he’s my brother, we don’t always need words to understand what the other is trying to convey and I know for him right now he feels guilty about him being here and Tommy not.
In a way I think its survivor’s guilt, I know a lot of soldiers tend to get it when they survive something that no one else did. But Jake couldn’t have known the day that Tommy walked out he would get shot and ultimately die, and I don’t know how to make him feel less guilty about something that was nobody’s fault except the guy with the gun.
I promptly and admittedly roughly, push Jake back from the computer and watch as he flails his arms slightly before the land on the wheels of his chair and move my own office chair in front of the Camera.
“Now its my turn, I’ll show you how you do it properly.” I throw Malu a wink as she smirks up at me, oh how I’ve missed her little smirk, now she may have gotten most of her attributes from her father, oh but that smirk that’s all me.
Jake scoffs as rolls up next to me and gestures with his hands as if to say the floor is now yours, I place a hand on my chest and give him a bow and another wink. Jake shakes his head at my antics and I point to Malu to signal her to hit record.
“Dr Corvus Katrina Jones Sully, Phd in linguistics focusing on the Na’vi Language and culture, and Trauma surgeon to both the Human and Na’vi Anatomy. Today is Sunday 19th of May in the year of 2154, the time is now 17:15 and this is my first Log for the avatar program.” I turn my head slightly towards Jake as I know for a fact he didn’t say any of that for the beginning of his log and he promptly rolls his eyes at me and mouths ‘bite me’ which just makes me grin before I turn back to the camera.
“Today is my first day on Pandora and I feel incredible, it sucks that we can’t breathe the air like the Na’vi do in our human bodies but we will be able to do it once were inside our Avatars, which we will be taking for our very first test drive tomorrow.” I can see out of the corner of my eyes and I turn my head to the Left that Malu is beaming, she can’t wait to see it, “And I’m both excited and nervous the simulators are one thing, but tomorrow is the real deal, I’m officially completing my dream of coming to Pandora and becoming an avatar driver.” Part of me want to talk about Tommy in this moment but I think better of it as I don’t think it would be helpful in trying to ease Jakes guilt, “The feeling I felt when I saw my avatar for the first time is hard to explain, she looks like me but she’s taller and bluer and honestly probably has nicer hair.” This makes Malu snicker.
I take a deep breathe before I continue, “But I also felt this overwhelming sense of familiarity and almost homely feeling looking at her, she was built for me, for my mind and just like my daughter from my own DNA, its incredible to me what Science can and I’m truly excited to get into the thick of all of it and take it all in, I’ve been studying the Na’vi and Pandora for as long as I can remember and now being here, I feel like I need someone to pinch me,” I raise up a hand towards Jake knowing he would take that statement literally, I hear as his hand slaps back down into his lap. “This is going to be home for the next six years and I am going to savour every single moment and learn as much as I possibly can. Now this is Dr Corvus Katrina Jones-Sully signing off.”
Malu clicks on the mouse and moves her fingers and hands around to save my file onto the drive as well, again following the instructions that Max had given us. SciOps doesn’t know it, but they have a mini scientist in their midst.
Jake gives me a slow clap, “Truly a masterpiece.” He drawls sarcastically but before I can give my response, another scientist runs into the lab whispering to Max who’s head drops slightly and he lets out a deep sigh. Jake and I eye each other for a second before I shrug my shoulders.
Max pushes himself up from the desk and looks at us all individually and claps his hands together, “Okay New friends, Log off, its time to meet your new boss for the next 6 years.”
Grace. We’re about to meet the Dr Grace Augustine, and I pray to I guess Eywa now, that its not one of those situations, where people say ‘Never meet your heroes’. Because as I look over at my daughter who’s now physically buzzing with excitement as she hold Bagheera up to her face. I don’t think my little girl’s heart could handle the disappointment.
Chapter two is here and I'm so excited to share it with you all! we will most likely be meeting Tsu'tey next chapter but I want to remind yall that this story is a slow burn, I really want to build on the fondations of the different relationships that Cori will have in this story along with Malu as well!
Word count: 5.3K
Chapter two
1 week, 1 bloody week to try and get Jake somewhat understanding of what he’s getting himself into, even though I did basically beg him to do it, I don’t think I truly understood what I was getting him to agree too. Tommy and I trained for the avatar program for three years and Ive been studying the Na’vi language and culture for even longer than that. Jake barley knows anything about our own planet and here I am trying to cram years and years worth of knowledge that I have a week before we are going off to sleep for 6 years.
I do think both of us are using these so-called lessons to try and not think about the reason why Jake is now coming to Pandora. Malu has barley spoken since she said goodbye to Tommy, and if I’m being honest that shit scares me, Malu’s never stopped talking since the moment she realised she had a voice and it could get her things she wanted. She basically had all her screams and cries categorised within the first month of her being earth side. And my god if you ever mixed up what she wanted no god was going to be able to save you from her wrath.
But now silence, she hasn’t even tried to correct me on me on my Na’vi when I purposely got it wrong to try and gage some sort of reaction out of her. Now I know what yall our thinking. I’m her mother I should just talk to her and tell her everything is going to be okay and the grief of losing ones father will slowly fade with time. But how am I meant to know that, I still greive over my brother and its been almost 7 years since I lost him and with my mother I was grieving her when she was still alive.
As well as I’m grieving Tommy too, how can I offer words to my daughter when I cant even offer words to myself. Tommy was always the one better with words and emotions, he was the one that knew the right things to say to Malu when she was upset. Me I’m Malu’s physical support the one she goes to when she needs a hug, or to run around outside until you collapse on the ground laughing and giggling with exhaustion in your body and sweat dripping from your face. I’m the only who teaches her new languages and about Pandora and of the plant and wildlife that used to belong to the earth. Tommy was her emotional support, was both our emotional supports.
Now that he’s gone, its barley been 3 days and I already feel like me and my daughter are miles apart. Like right now were all sat in the living room as I try and fail to get Jake to listen to me explain both the Na’vi and English terms for different animals that we may encounter on Pandora. Malu’s curled up on the old Blue armchair where her father would read her different story books or show her different photos and videos of the animals of earth that have long been extinct. She’s got Bagheera tucked up under her chin and her tablet playing the jungle book movie, both mine and Her’s comfort movie. She’s been watching it on repeat since we got back from the crematorium. Again where she uttered her last words in the past 3 days. She’s got one of Tommy’s sweaters that still smells like him wrapped around her as if she’s trying to trick her brain into thinking that its really him wrapping her up in one of his big bear hugs.
Though I may not be the best with words, I know my daughter through and through because the way she handles emotions is exactly like me. I chuck one of the ‘Animals of Pandora’ books at an unexpecting Jake who goes to yell at me but see’s where my attention has switched to and promptly chooses not to say a word. Today my hairs back up in the messy bun, and I’ve got a plain black tee and blue sweatpants on with my fluffiest pink socks to avoid the coldest of the wooden floorboards. To try and elicit some response from my currently mute daughter I attempt to slide along the floor and dramatically fake fall which ultimately turns into a real fall as I trip on the edge of the coffee table (graceful as I usually am, I can practically hear my dad yelling at me to always check my souroundings.) and land right in front of my daughter. Jake tries and falls to hold in his laugh and as I flick my head up to look at my daughter I see the faintest smile sneak onto to her face before it immediately falls back into the permanent frown that has taken up residence on my daughters beautiful face.
The face of which even though I carried her for 9 months is her fathers face, she has his nose, his eyes, his lips, his hair colour, everything and looking at her makes me so happy. Cause even though Tommy may be gone now, I get to keep a piece of him always through our Daughter, our beautifully sad daughter who misses her dad.
“Hey Man-cub, which part you up to?” I smile up at her from the floor kneeling in front of her placing my elbows on the edge head resting on my hands as I try to peer at the screen, I can see better as she turns it more to me that she’s up to the part where Kaa the Python hypnotizes Mowgli. “Ohh that’s a good part, now I think your uncle Jake has quite enough of his lessons today so how about some pizza for dinner, and we can eat it on the couch while we watch the movie?”
Hoping that Pizza would gain at least a smile on her face, I’m hit with disappointment as all she gives me is a slight nod and returns her gaze to the screen and brings the panther closer to her and the sleeve of Tommy’s sweater closer to her nose inhaling deeply. I visibly see the tension ease away from my little girl and it makes my chest ache and contract as I truly don’t know how I could possibly give her any words of comfort that could ease her suffering right now.
I turn back to Jake who offers me a sad smile, as I know he feels similar to me right now, completely hopeless and out of our depth. I know Jake is also most likely feeling guilty too considering he basically shut Tommy out ever since he was discharged and whenever the two did talk, it was always an argument of screaming between the two that I would always have to get into the middle of to shut it down to ensure the they wouldn’t wake Malu.
Tommy would always go off to watch Malu to help himself calm down and Jake would either go to the back porch or go off drinking at yet another dive bar and the cycle would continue from there.
And now Tommy is gone, Jake still feels guilty possibly more guilty cause he’s taking part in the program that Tommy trained and dreamed for. Malu is sad and will not speak, and me gods above I’m just trying to stay standing, Tommy would want me to stay strong, Tommy was the pillar in our Family and trying to stand in his place I feel like the pillar is slowly breaking down around me. But for Jake, for Tommy, for our Daughter I will endure, and I will take care of this family.
Because this Family is our fortress and nothing is going to break it down.
“We’ll be okay Cori, you’re strong, you’re smart, you know what you’re doing. And I’m so proud of you and all you’ve achieved. You deserve this.” One of the last pep talks Tommy gave me as I was about to walk across the graduation floor and accept my certificate, a piece of paper that proves that I’m a doctor to both the human and Na’vi anatomy and that I’m a specialist in trauma surgery. A mere few days before he was gunned down. Tommy was always good at helping me with my imposter syndrome tendencies always reminding me that all my achievements and accomplishments are because of my hard work, no one else’s but my own, though I always feel it in the bank or my mind that suspiciously usually sounds like my parents that I don’t deserve everything that I have worked for.
I still remember the last conversation Tommy and I had, before he walked out the front door for the last time, I mean for brain it was only a week ago but in reality as I find myself eyes open in a cyro vault I know it’s been almost 6 years since this conversation.
I was having a slight panic attack because I was feeling overwhelmed about the fact that we were going to be leaving earth and going to a completely different planet with our 5 year old daughter, like we had to be insane to do this, we can’t even breathe pandoras air without an Exo-mask something that we spent time teaching Malu all about to ensure that she wouldn’t have any malfunctions with it and even if she did she would know how to fix it quickly. Not that she would ever be alone without myself or Tommy- well now Jake or probably Norm since I know he is also going to be here. This freak out though which I believe is still completely justified, was abled to be calmed almost immediately because Tommy always knew just what to say, to bring me back down to earth, well I guess Pandora now and there’s no Tommy to help with that anymore either, gotta put my big girl pants on a dealing with my trauma, anxiety and raging adhd by myself now.
As I lay awake in my cryo pod waiting for my turn for it to be open I can hear the med tech calling out to everyone in vault.
“People, you have been in cryo for five years, nine months and twenty-two days. You will be hungry; you will be weak. You feel nausea, please use the sacks provided for your convenience. The staff thanks you in advance.” As he nears the end of his speech another med tech floats over the top of my head and pops the lid open.
“Rise and shine, and welcome to Pandora” the woman smiles down at me as she floats on down to the next pod which I know homes my daughter and i immediately push myself up and even though I did zero gravity training back on earth, it still feels weird to feel and be weightless. I float on over to the pod and gaze down at my daughter, she wasn’t allowed to hold onto Bagheera because of safety concerns but I know he’s tucked away safely in her bag that will be in her locker. I watch as she slowly opens her eyes blinking up at me and the first thing I get from her is a smile before I see her face begin to turn green, I immediately reach for the puke bags that the med tech mentioned and help Malu sit up and puke what looks to be some sort of meat, bread, hot chips and milk chunks into the bag before tying it off and placing it in the conveniently placed bins behind each pod. I have a feeling that her dear uncle Jake was trying to ease her own anxiety and nerves about this adventure over burgers, fries and milkshakes the night before we shipped out, even though I warned him that our stomachs should be empty before going into cyro. I try to wipe off the excess liquid around her lips and she looks up at me with a sheepish smile, rolling my eyes I loop my arms around her and start heading to the lockers.
I take in a shaky breath as I see Jake open the locker that says ‘Sully.T’ on it and move towards the ones with ‘Sully.M’ and ‘Sully.C’. I originally wasn’t going to change my name when Tommy and I got married but I also didn’t like the idea of Malu having a different last name from me, so in the end I decided to change my name to Sully too, I didn’t exactly have a connection to Jones considering even when I was getting ready to ship off to Pandora I still had heard nothing from my father and the Navy wouldn’t tell me anything either. I did continue to send updates to him though, pictures and videos of Malu throughout the years, including birthday messages from her too, each year she decided to call him by a different grandfather name, granda, grandad, poppy, pop-pop, papa, pa, grampy and my personal favourite Grumpy. But we received no notice whether he got any of the photos, letters or videos. All I know is that he was alive six years ago, and I don’t know if he is alive now.
Once we grab our bags and Malu is once again snuggled into one of Tommy’s sweaters and Bagheera is wrapped in her arms. (I made sure to Pack at least 2 bottles of the cologne he uses to ensure that the sweater continues to smell like him for Malu)
We move forth, but not before we all stop to gaze out of the window, stars coat the sky clearly, unlike the polluted skies of earth where you’re lucky to see anything. I feel Malu take a deep breath beside me her eyes widening in awe and mouth dropping open in complete wonder of what we’re seeing. And as we watch as the interstellar spacecraft — ISV venture star floats by, which by the way is absolutely massive, we’re met with the few of the planet POLYPHEMUS,
And in addition to this planet our gaze falls towards our destination, its largest moon which does strike quite the resemblance to earth Pandora Eywa'eveng which translates to ‘Eywa’s child’.
Seeing it for the first time in person truly takes my breath away, this is going to be where Malu lives for the next 6 years, plus myself and Jake too and it’s absolutely beautiful. I just hope that we can continue to good work that Dr Augustine has already been doing and continue to build on making connections with the natives of this planet. Because something I’ve tried to instil in Malu and well myself over the past few years, is that we are guests on this planet, and we must respect the land and the people that live there and care for it and most important listen to what they say, I tried to get Jake to understand that too but there’s only so much information a jarhead can take before he fights out how to tune out your words.
But looking down at Malu I know she understands the lessons I’ve taught her over the years. I know she knows the different plant life, animals and the language of this planet, hell I think she’s read Dr Augustine’s books more than I have at this point and would probably correct me on the names of the different animals and plants. But considering my job is language, communication and medical I’m okay with my daughter taking on the role of expert in plants and animals.
It doesn’t take too long before we’re shuffled onto a Valkyrie, I made sure that Jake’s wheelchair is secured next to him, so that he can set it up himself when he lands, knowing that he hates it when people trying to do stuff for him, just because he no longer has the use of his legs doesn’t make him helpless. But even still he’s still my brother and I want to make sure that his wheelchair doesn’t rattle around and knock into anybody’s unexpecting shins, we both give each a nod as I settle back into my seat and check that Malus belts are secured and she’s sat in between Jake and myself, I made sure to pack a pair of noise canceling headphones for her to hopefully lessen her anxiety about the loud noises of the ships. I also make sure that her exo-pack is placed in her lap for her to reach and place on when the time comes.
The crew chief of the Valkyrie is pacing up and down the isles before he bellows out, “Exopacks on!”
Malu dons her mask quickly, and expertly as I spent many hours dedicated to teaching her the ins and outs of the mask, and I quickly place mine on and securing it before quickly checking malus but she simply pats my hand a way with a scowl, that tells me ‘mum I know how to do it, you taught me’. I quickly place my hands up in surrender before allowing a small laugh escape me.
The crew chief continues his rant “Remember people, you lose your mask you're unconscious in 20 seconds and you're dead in four minutes. Let's nobody be dead today, it looks bad on my report.”
I follow his path up and down the aisle as I can see him eyeing Malu, I’m not surprised though I doubt there are any earth children on Pandora right now and the man probably thinks I’m insane and an irresponsible mother for bringing my child to planet that she can’t breathe on. The man stops in front of us but instead of his gaze dropping to me or Malu it drops to Jake who appears to be struggling with his mask. Shit I didn’t teach Jake about the exopack masks, that probably should’ve been a higher priority on what I was teaching him before leaving earth.
“Exopacks on, let’s go!” The man yells one more time before moving down the aisle, before I can reach over to help Jake I look back over to see Malu helping her clueless uncle (which partly my fault) and adjusting the straps and tubes and helping him place it over his face and giving a thumbs up to him as we head the suction of air happen, confirming that the exopack is locked and secured. Jake smiles down at Malu and locks her in a headlock and giving her scalp a quick noggy, which she promptly begins slapping at his arms to release her.
Both Jake and I grin down at her, and she returns it with scowl, but I can see her lips twitching up into a smile which she attempts to hide behind Bagheera. Jake and I lock eyes over her head, “she’s going to be okay.” Is the silent message, I can feel him trying to convey to me, I give him a small smile before looking back down at Malu, ‘Eywa, I hope so.’
Once everyone was stood their bags at the ready, we waited for the massive hanger doors to open to the base -Hells gate- the hinges lowered the metal contraption to ramp that we all began to make our way down from. I placed Malu on Jake’s lap to ensure that we wouldn’t lose sight of her while we made our way to the building.
“Go directly into the base! Do not stop! Go straight inside!” The crew chief was yelling as he stood next to the entrance.
“Is it bad that I want to ask him so we do not pass go and collect $200?” I lent down to whisper to Jake who tried and failed to stifle his laugh, which unfortunately did not go unnoticed by the man in uniform, who sneered at us as we moved passed him down the ramp.
Once I looked up though, I was shocked at what I saw, instead of being truly engulfed by the beauty of Pandora, I was met with a military base camp. Sounders in uniforms everywhere holding guns and looking around as if they hated that they were on this planet. Massive machinery was being wheeled around with arrows sticking out of its wheels and anywhere that an arrow may be able to embed itself into. Furrowing my eyebrows towards this, ‘I thought we had some sort of peace between the Na’vi and humans why are they attacking the machines.’ In reality I knew why, humans as we normally are, are notoriously greedy and probably tried mining in areas that were not agreed upon and the Na’vi rightfully so were protecting their lands, were meant to be guests here but humans always seem to think, ‘what’s yours is actually mine.’
Makes me sick that in 100s if not thousands of years, humans still have not learnt from their past mistakes and experiences. My thoughts are interrupted as I hear the voices of two soldiers that are not being subtle with their opinions.
“Look at all the new meat” the bald soilder speaks out, and I can practically feel his eyes Peruse over the length of my entire body, which honestly isn’t much to see right now as I’ve got black cargo pants, plain white T-shirt and black combat boots to top it off. I definitely felt his eyes stop at my breasts though. But being 22 in a prominently male industry for the most part I’m used to the stares and comments but even more used to ignoring them.
“Check it out, man. Meals on wheels.” The other solider nods his head towards Jake and I see the first soilders gaze drop down to Jake and then to Malu, who’s eyes are flicking everywhere as if she can’t decide what to look at first.
“That is just wrong.”
I place my hand on Jake’s shoulder to slow him down slightly as we watch as the AMPSUITS, operated by yet another human solider, and my eyes tighten as I see the massive rotary cannon called a GAU-90, clasped in its metal hands. My ears then lock onto a tower as a sentry gun opens fire into the great forest, and even from this distance I can see a shadowy figure streak away from the bullets.
As we pass the soldiers, Jake notices their stares and in typical Jake fashion whenever someone looks towards him with pity, or with eyes that say wow look at this sad man in the chair, he speaks up.
“What're you two limpdicks starin' at?” Before the soldiers have a chance to respond, I squeeze Jake’s shoulder and make him push forward past the soldiers but of course the bald man has to make his opinion known.
“Seen a lotta guys leave this place in a wheelchair. Never seen anybody show up in one. Especially with a kid attached to them.”
This stops me briefly from continuing on and I turn slightly toward the men. “Maybe you should pay more attention to your jobs instead of flapping your gums as if you have something important to say.” I glare hard at the man before turning back towards walking to the base
Solider man just scoffs and turns back to the other man, not even attempting to hide what he says next, “Give me a week and I’ll have her in my bed.”
I don’t turn back around, but I can see Jake tense up beside me as he goes to stop his wheelchair. If there is one thing Jake can’t stand is people preying on others, especially people who openly are disgusting towards women, and being Jake’s sister, I’ve experienced him standing up for me on multiple occasions.
“Don’t, just keep moving.” I don’t feel like breaking up a fight between Jake and another solider, the second we touched down on Pandora.
Jake tenses his jaw but continues on, and as I gaze down I can see Malus little eyes flutter, as she begins to fight sleep that is calling to her body.
Jake and I enter the base, we’re able to remove our masks, Jake helping remove Malu’s as she yawns but blinks and rubs her eyes awake. We make our way towards the assigned meeting room for all the new people that have arrived on Pandora. Men, women, scientists, more soldiers most likely, engineers and who knows who else. As we are the last ones to enter we stay near the back, Jake carefully manovers his bag round going to place it on his lap before realising its currently occupied by a little girl, I take the bag off him and swing my own round to place them on the table sliding in next to him. Both our attentions set on the Solider giving the safety speech, it brings back memories whenever my dad would take me camping and before he would make me go hunting with him he’d make me sit down as he went through all the rules I had to follow. This guy is equally as dramatic as my father is(Was?).
I remember who he is though, He’s Colonel Miles Quaritch, head of security for hells gate, he was in the briefing packet Tommy and I received a few days before he passed, I made sure to memorise all the personelle I would be both happy interacting with and the ones I wouldn’t be, Quaritch sits on the not happy side. But I can tell by the look on Jake’s face, he feels a bit more at ease seeing the Marine running the safety briefing, as this is something he knows and understands well. Jake maybe have forced out of active duty, but he is still a Marine at heart and in his head.
“You’re not in Kansas anymore” Quaritch makes his way down between the aisles of tables, not really looking at anyone, his steps slow and calculated, making sure that all the attention of the room is on him. I expect as a Colonel that’s how he likes it, to be in control, in charge, to be the biggest man in the room. With the way he has his soldiers lined up along the window unarmed but himself carrying the only weapon in the room (Which I can see from the back), feels like a power play to me. “You are on Pandora, ladies and gentlemen. Respect that fact every second of every day.”
If respecting means most likely shooting down anything that moves that is, that’s how Marines often work, shoot first and never ask the questions, follow the orders of your commander and never question them yourself. It’s why I would always refuse my dad whenever he would bring up the fact of me one day following in his footsteps in the Navy, I question too much to just accept orders as orders.
The Colonel continues his walk down the aisle but raises his hand out to point towards the forest, which we can barely see through the windows “Out beyond that fence every living thing that crawls, flies or squats in the mud wants to kill you and eat your eyes for jujubees.” as he made it to the end of the aisle, he makes a strategic spin, landing with his stance wide, making sure to slide his eyes across the entire room, I can hear some gasps and shaky inhales of breath as people lock eyes on his scar, based on the size of the claws I’m leaning towards it being a viperwolf or nantang in Na’vi. The thing that gets me though, is I know the medical equipment and the resources they have here on Pandora, they could’ve 100% been able to get rid of that scar, this was intentional, he wants everyone here to be fearful and even I have to admit it has its desired effect, I can feel goosebumps rise up along my arms as I look at the scar.
“We have an indigenous population of humanoids here called the Na'vi. They're fond of arrows dipped in a neurotoxin which can stop your heart in one minute. We operate -- we live -- at a constant threat condition yellow.” Quaritch continues to walk around the front of the room sometimes going into the aisle and all eyes follow him as he talks. My brain goes to the idea of studying the neurotoxin, I wonder how it works and what they use to create it and whether it has an antidote or if its only truly more lethal to humans than the natives of pandora.
“As head of security, it's my job to keep you alive. I will not succeed –
He holds for a second, dramatic affect that only a Colonel who craves the attention and the accolades of those around him can muster. But I do feel it when the Colonel locks eyes on the three of us near the back, giving us all a quick once over. Probably thinking the same thing as most people think when they see Jake, because they don’t see him, they see the chair, they see what they think he can’t do and not what he can do. Plus the addition of probably the first child on Pandora, has probably left a few people reeling.
-- not with all of you. If you wish to survive, you need a strong mental attitude, you need to follow procedure...”
I look across the room, and I find myself growing a smile on my face as I lock eyes with Norm, Norm Spellman. My friend, fellow member of the Avatar program and an amazing scientist. Though like most nerds (Myself included) his social skills and timing could use work. Because waving at me from across the room with a big smile on his face as the Colonel is continuing his briefing is not the right course of action. Just as I expected Norm soon realises the Colonels attention is on him and he slowly lowers his hand and mumbles a quiet ‘sorry’, shoulders slumping slightly in embarrassment. The colonel turns away and continues his spiel.
I shake my head slightly at the antics of my dear friend, before Jake leans over to me whispering, “A friend of yours?” I turn slightly to Jake offering him a slight nod, not wishing for the Colonels attention to drop onto me for interrupting his speech. But looking back at Jake I can see a smile making its way onto his face, and this makes me realise, that Jake probably does miss this, the security and consistency of being a Marine of knowing what he does next cause he always had orders. Ever since he was discharged, I could feel that he was just floating through life, he didn’t has his orders anymore he didn’t have his purpose. It’s part of the reason why I asked him to babysit Malu so much, it was my subtle way of trying to give him some sort of stability, give him something to do, because he didn’t know what he was meant to do after his injury, he was just cast out cause he was no longer of use to them and I think that truly broke his spirit in a way that isn’t easily fixed, well if fixed at all.
“Hey, nothing like a good old-school safety briefing to put your mind at ease, ey Marine.” I bump my elbow into Jakes shoulder, and the smile that was growing on his face widens just that little bit more, and if the Colonels attention turned on me I didn’t notice or care, cause for the first time in a while, I got to see my brother smile and it not feel forced or just for show.
Can't believe its been almost 10 years since i last wrote fan-fiction but its happening and I'm in love catch me writing for avatar for the next few months as I complete at least 3 novel length stories cause I'm obsessed with this world.
Ahhhh so here's chapter 1 which heavily focused on Cori and the Sullys on earth. I wanted to try and give a strong fondation of Cori's backstory and throughout the series we will be seeing flashbacks of more moments on earth. I did change some things around such as Tommy dying from a gunshot wound instead of a stabbing, and even though I did proofread this I expect there to be some mistakes in it too. Please leave some comments cause I'm all for feedback and I hope yall enjoy reading this series as much as I have been writing it. Chapter two will be posted within the next two days, unfortunately i have a work meeting tomorrow night so it will take me a little longer. but the goal i'm aiming for is about 2-3 chapters a week!
Chapter 1
Corvus Pov age 16
Location: Earth Year: 2142
Funerals. They used to be very different from what they are now, they used to be at a church, cemetery, or anywhere that you wanted them to be depending on the person who died. Me for instance always dreamed of a Viking funeral, that I watched on an old movie when I was younger, big floating natural boat where your closest friends and family use a flaming arrow to burn your body and return it to mother earth. It’s probably the reason I begged my parents to let me take up archery though that only lasted one summer before I was told that we could no longer afford it due to my brother’s medical bills. Which to a 13-year-old is basically being told that your parents hate you, but I of course wasn’t your typical 13-year-old. I had already basically enough credits to be done with high school at that point and had been recruited by the science team at the RDA, though I rejected them at the time as I wanted to stay close to my brother and my friends.
I decided to continue going to high school, but instead of most of the normal classes I was already taking classes from various universities to complete my bachelors of Linguistics minoring in Na’vi, Majoring in the musical aspects of different cultures. But I well as studying to become a doctor in both human anatomy but also the Na’vi as well, which is why at this point at the age of 16, I’ve already been accepted into the Avatar program. I’ve still got a few years of training to go and more studying before I can get my doctorate as well as my masters, because of course I couldn’t be happy with just completing my studies, no I need- no I have to be the best of the best. Being raised as a Navy seals daughter and having well my mother as my mother, it has left no room for mistakes and I’ve learnt pretty early on that if you want anyone to take you seriously, you need to have the papers and the brain to back it up. As my mother has always told me I don’t exactly have the face of someone that can relay on that to get where I want to be in the world. Well rather off this world.
Sorry for the tangent, where were we again, ahh yes the funeral, well were currently at a funeral. My mothers funeral, and as I said before funerals are different now. We’re currently in a metal box surrounded by metal gurneys, a couple incinerators and my mothers dead corpse in a body bag in front of us, us being myself, Tommy, Jake and their dad. I asked Their mum to stay outside the room with Phoenix, my brother doesn’t need to see this, especially based on what the doctors told us the other week it won’t be long until we are attending a similar funeral for him.
I know that sounds pretty morbid of me but the doctors have honestly been shocked that my brother has lasted as long as he has done. But that’s my little brother for you, a true fighter. Much like my mother, though she didn’t win her battle, I used to make a bet in the back of mind of who I would be saying goodbye to first, yes again I know morbid, but I’ve basically been preparing for both of their deaths for years now. That’s why I’m not crying, my tears have already been shed for my mother, I lost her years ago the corpse that now lays in front of me is simply a shell of the person I know saw in glimpses. But unfortunately, that’s how it goes when you are a daughter to an addict.
The scientist in front of us is explaining how the incinerator is the only way we are able to get rid of corpses now as there is no point burying a body on a dying planet and the smell of decaying corpses is not a pleasant one. I can hear Mr Sully asking all sorts of questions on how it works and if we are able to spread the ashes, but I’m barley listening, I can hear my brothers coughing from the other side of the metal door and Mrs sully’s attempts at trying to calm him down as he coughs and cries and begging an orderly to get him some water.
I can feel Tommy squeezing my shoulder, as his way of showing support. Something he has always done since we were kids, but my gaze flutters towards Jake who looks just as detached as I feel. Jake’s probably the only one who truly understand the depth of my mothers addiction and what would happen during some of my mothers times of going through withdrawals. But Tommy, Tommy’s the one I choose as my boyfriend, well he asked me out and I said yes and suddenly its been over a year since then and well its comfortable and easy, I didn’t see the point in finding someone new when Tommy already knows me.
It’s easy to love Tommy, I’ve done it my whole life, now there is just kissing, more hugs and hand holding involved. The sully’s have always been kind to me too, we’ve been next door neighbours for as long as I can remember and since I could walk and talk I’ve been spending my days at their house with Jake and Tommy. Jake’s basically the annoying older brother I never asked for but honestly wouldn’t know what I would do without him. Tommy, well like I said we’re childhood sweethearts, who wouldn’t love that your neighbour and friend you’ve known your whole life would turn into the man you love I suppose. Like I said he’s easy to love.
“Would you like to say anything before we start Miss Jones?” The Scientist (Don’t ask me for his name I wasn’t paying attention to him) everyone in the room turns their attention to me, which immediately brings to light that I was indeed not really paying attention at all to what the guy was saying, he was your typical cliché science guy, big square glasses brown mousey hair that looks like it hasn’t seen a shampoo bottle in at least two weeks, and with the heat of us being in this room his glasses are steaming up from the sweat that dripping down his face, along with his skinny boned fingers constantly pushing them back up as they slip down, his lab coat has patches of sweat from his armpits and he’s holding a tablet that has all my mothers details shiny through on it, along with his white shirt with collars turned up as he obviously rip off his usual tie that he’s probably expected to wear to be professional.
I slowly nod and blurt out the first thing that comes to my mind, that sounds like a nice thing a greasing daughter should say at her mother’s funeral.
“I hope you find peace, wherever your soul longs to be.”
Well I wasn’t wrong though, it was barley even two months later, that I would be in the incinerator funeral room once again. Though this time there are tears, I love my brother. But I know now he is no longer feeling any pain. I lean forward over the metal slab and lay a kiss along his brow, whispering so only he would hear my words as if he were still alive, “Rest now my brother, I’ll carry you with me always.” Phoenix always loved it when I spoke Na’vi with him, I spoke it to him a lot while I was studying and he always said it sounded beautiful to him, mother always hated it when I did often yelling at me to speak English, as we lived in America, though Scotland is her homeland and she even speaks Gaelic, she taught it to me when I was younger before her addiction got the best of her. I would sometimes try to ask her things in Gaelic but as time went on and her addiction grew worse I found she barley remembered the tongue of our ancestors. But I made sure that my brother spoke knew key words of the language.
It seems surreal that at age 16 I’ve had to say goodbye to so many family members, My mothers parents passed away a few years after I was born but I never met them in person as they still lived in Scotland. My fathers parents were dead many years before I was born too. As for my father I haven’t seen him in years, after my brothers diagnosis he made it his mission it seems to stay as far away from home as possible. He also made me at 15 become my brothers legal guardian as he made me get legally emancipated from my parents to make this happen. Don’t ask me how this all works out legally, but I think because of how high up my father is as a Navy seal and how long he has been apart of the Navy, the legal team just made it happen.
My father knew of my mothers addiction but choose to turn a blind eye to it as he assumed it was a coping mechanism due to my brother. But in reality my mothers been like this well before my brother was even born. You see the body on the table here, my brother he’s only 10 years old, well was 10 years old. I’ll never see him as anything older now.
As I watch them push my brother’s body into the incinerator, I feel the constant and reassuring presence of Tommy to my left and Jake to my right. As always, these boys have kept me in the middle of them as long as I can remember, Jake as my loyal protective older brother (Even though I’m technically only a few weeks younger) and Tommy my boyfriend, my partner in everything. I’ve never known a life without them by myside, and I hope I never do.
9 months later
Location: Earth Age:17 Year:2143
Something I wasn’t ready to do at 15 years old was the legal guardian for my younger terminally ill brother, and something no is able to deal with at any age is an addict for a mother. But at age 17 I definitely wasn’t ready for those two little pink lines to be staring at me in the face as I sit in a public bathroom at my university. Am I happy am I sad, I do not know at this point, but all I do know is that I am fucking terrified.
I’m meant to be starting my avatar program training when I turn 18 and I still have so much studying to do that having a baby is truly not the thing I should be concerning myself to. I know Tommy will be happy, he was always amazing with Phoenix, and I know he would be an amazing dad. But me a mother I didn’t exactly have the best example growing up, though I basically became my younger brothers mother figure as our own mother did not have the capacity to truly be there for us anymore.
With a heavy sigh I place the stick in the pocket of my lab coat and drop my head into my hands. Fingers go through my hair as I push back the fly aways that feel from my hair that has been thrown into yet another messy bun on the top of my head which seems to be the new permanent hairstyle of my life. Messy.
I’ll tell Tommy tonight at dinner, since he’s coming over to my place tonight not that’s it’s a far travel and we will mostly be having leftover pizza from the night before.
“Hey Tommy, we’re going to be parents.” I whisper to myself as I push myself up from the toilet seat and make my way back to the lab, looking at the time it’s only 11oclock I’ve still got at least 7 or more hours left of work to do today before I’m ready to call it quits.
Washing my hands in the sink I keep thinking about all the different options I could choose, I know I’m early on so an adoration is an option. But for me I don’t think I want one, as messed up as the timing is I can’t imagine myself going through with one, I know the foetus is just a pile of cells right now, but this pile of cells is in my body and it’s my choice. I do want to keep this baby. I want to be their mother.
“You’re pregnant.” Tommy sits slightly slacked jaw across the table from me his hand holding onto the cheese pizza as I watch a piece of the cheese slowly slide off it and plop right back onto the plate below it.
I let out a sigh as I place the stick with two bright pink lines on the table between us.
“I know timing isn’t perfect, but it’s my body and my choice, and I’m choosing to keep this baby. If you choose not to be apart of their life that’s your choice too, I’m not doing this to trap you or anything like that.” I pick up another piece of pizza and start chewing on it, it’s not the best pizza but when your planet is dying you accept what ever luxuries you can get.
Tommy places the pizza back down on the plate and picks up the stick and then leans over to me with his other hand, placing it over my own that isn’t holding the pizza and wraps his hand around it giving it a tight squeeze. When I finally gain the courage to look up at him I see his eyes are lined silver with tears threatening to spill out. It shocks me slightly to see tears in Tommy’s eyes, as he’s usually not one to get overly emotional.
“Cori, I want this baby too, I love you and I love the new life that we have made together. I’m not going to leave you alone.” Tommy flashes me one of his signature reassuring smiles, that threaten to make me smile as well, I feel my lips moving up into a smile as well.
“You’re parents are going to be furious.” I huff out a laugh as I place my pizza down and wrap both my hands around his.
This makes Tommy let out his own laugh, “Maybe, but they love you like you’re their own daughter, they’ll get over themselves.”
“Tommy we both have such busy lives, are you sure you’re ready to add a baby into the mix.
“A baby with the woman I’ve loved since I was a child, hell yeah I’m ready, and we will work it out, I know my parents will help up us once they get over the shock of it all”
I don’t say anything else as my gaze goes back to the stick that’s still being held by Tommy. A baby, I’m no we’re going to have a baby. I just hope I’m doing the right thing.
“Marriage?” My eyes go wide, as I truly can’t believe what I’m hearing from Tommy’s parents, they want us to get married.
It’s been a few months since we announced to his parents and Jake that we were expecting a new bundle of joy, and with that we Dealt with the backlash from his parents. Telling us we were irresponsible and reckless to let this happen, when we are both so young and have our whole lives ahead of us. Jake was pretty silent when we told him, but later became excited at the idea of becoming an uncle. Though he plans to ship out with the marines the second he turns 18, he’ll most likely be there for the birth of our daughter.
We found out that we were having a little girl a week ago and we’ve been testing out a whole lot of new baby names. Though I don’t think Tommy agrees with the name I’ve settled on -Malu. It’s a combination of Baloo and Mowgli from the jungle book. Cause Tommy said I couldn’t just name our child as a character from a movie; she had to have something new and unique.
Marriage was something I’ve never really thought about before, as my parents even though they’re married, I’ve never really thought of them as a couple as they’re never really been in the same room for longer than they have to be. Whenever dad would come home from the navy he would spend all his time with me and Phoenix and with Phoenix getting sicker his visits came less and less. I don’t think he enjoyed seeing how sick his son had gotten. He didn’t even come back for either of the funerals. Hell, I haven’t even told him that I’m pregnant yet cause he’s on a mission right now where he cannot be reached, I’ve at least sent the letter and he’ll get it as soon as he’s able to read it.
“Yes. You two maybe teenagers, but I don’t want your daughter to just be viewed as a mistake, if you two get married at least you’re relationship will be viewed as legitimate.” Mr sully was being serious, he had sat Tommy an I down at their dining room table, where I’ve shared many meals with the sully family, it’s a beautiful oak wood table with six wicker chairs surrounding it, Tommy and I are sat on two directly across from his parents who both are holding very serious expressions on their faces, Mrs Sully’s face at least holds a bit more empathy in it compared to Mr Sully’s.
I swallow back the massive lump in my throat as I try to gaze to my left towards Tommy who is nodding along towards the conversation that his parents started. As I gaze back over at them I see that mrs sully has placed a little black box in the middle of the table.
“It was my grandmothers ring.” Tommy leaned forward and opened the box, the ring wasn’t too fancy, it wasn’t even a diamond, it was a beautiful gold band, four points resembling a four-leaf clover with small emeralds attached to it.
Tommy brings it closer to me, and I hesitantly take the box from his hand holding it between both of mine.
“It’s a beautiful ring Virginia.” My gaze swaps between her and the ring, fingers gingerly swiping over it.
“It’s yours now, Corvus, I hope you take good care of it and one day pass it down to your own daughter.” She smiles at me as she says this, and my left hand instinctively goes to rest on my growing bump.
“I will.”
Tommy takes the ring out of the box and drops down to one knee beside the chairs; I have to shuffle myself over slightly so that I’m looking at him. My heart is in my throat and my mouth is dry, my hands are shaking slightly, and my god are they sweaty.
“Corvus Katrina Jones, will you do me the honour of marrying me and becoming my wife?” Tommy is smiling so bright at me that it relives some of the tension in my body.
But all I can think of, is that I don’t want to be married, this is a mistake, yes we’re having a baby together and will always be apart of one another’s lives. But marriage, I don’t want that I’ve never wanted that, or at least I don’t want that with Tommy, I love Tommy yes, but I don’t think I’m in love with Tommy. And this truly is the worst time to come to terms with my own feelings towards the man that has always been in my life the man that has always been by my side. This is wrong I shouldn’t say yes.
“Yes.” Fuck
Location: Earth Age:17 Year:2143
“Come on, a few more pushes and your daughter will be here!” The doctor who is currently staring at my vagina which is 10cm dilated, tries to be encouraging but oh my god do I want to punch her in the face right now. She’s not the one pushing a baby out of this tiny ass hole, why didn’t I op for a c-section (because Virgina got it in your head that a natural birth is beautiful and everyone who wants children should experience it) well fuck am I regretting this decision.
Plus, I refused all types of pain killers, so this is extra natural right now. My reasoning for refusing pain killers is because that is what got my mother hooked, she had painkillers during my birth, and they continued to give them to her after cause she had some major tearing.
A guttural scream escapes me, my head dropping back on the pillow behind me, I feel Tommy place a kiss to my forehead and I think I hear a few words of encouragement from him to left. I feel Virginia dap away at the sweat on my face, and my eyes lock with hers as I start to shake my head, tears lining my eyes.
“I can’t.” I can hear how weak, pathetic and desperate my voice sounds. Virginia gives my hand another squeeze.
“Yes you can, our bodies are made to do this you just have to push, it will be over soon. And that’s when the real work begins.” Virgina daps again around my face, as I ready to give another push, I can tell I’m squeezing poor Tommy and Virginia’s hands tightly cause when I look at them their fingers are bright red at the tips, slowly turning white as they start to lose the circulation from how hard I’m holding them.
Then relief, and then silence, I can’t hear my daughter. I see doctors and nurses moving and whispering and my eyes dart around the room as I try to figure out what’s wrong and where the hell is my baby. My throat is sore from screaming and I feel like I have cotton balls in my mouth due to how dry it feels, I try to push myself up but Virgina puts a hand on my chest ensuring I stay lying down, as I begin to protest I hear it. The loudest scream I’ve ever heard in my whole life and its coming from, my daughter. I look up and see that they’ve already tried cleaning up most of the flesh and blood from her, but I don’t care, she’s here, she’s breathing and she’s mine.
The nurse places her on my chest and I suddenly feel like I can breathe again, I don’t even realise that I’m crying, I vaguely hear Virgina talking to the nurses and the doctors but my attention is purely on the small baby on my chest who the second felt my skin on hers instantly calmed down. The bed dips slightly as Tommy slides in next to me and after being in labour for the past 24 hours, the pain of him pushing up against would be unbearable but right now I don’t care.
“She’s beautiful.” Tommy whispers as he places his hand on the back of her back slowly brushing his fingers along her head and her spine, “You did amazing, my love.”
I know Tommy’s talking to me, but I hear none of it, all my attention all my love my everything is focused on the little girl in my arms.
“Hello Malu.”
Location: Earth Age:18 Year:2144
Malu is 6 months old now, but with the way she acts you’d think she was older, she’s already sitting up by herself without support from myself or Tommy, and she looks mighty proud of herself when she holds her milk bottle up by herself. Tommy reckons she’ll be walking by the time she’s 9 months old, cause she’s already trying to bypass and beat every single milestone there is for a baby to have. Though Tommy is trying to make it a competition between us for if she’s going to say Mama or Dada first, little does he know Jake and I wanted to play a prank on Tommy and make Jake her first word.
Speaking of Jake he’s joined the Marines now, he shipped out about two months after Malu’s birth, he was here for Tommy’s and I’s wedding which we had about a month before Malu was born. Not much of a wedding though it was just me, Tommy, Jake and their parents at our local court house, I could feel the judgment from many of the people around me as they saw my pregnant belly. My dad was informed of the wedding, but he still hasn’t responded about Me being pregnant and even though its been almost a year since then its been radio silent. Apparently, this mission he’s on is extremely sensitive and life or death so there has been zero communication allowed to get to him.
Tommy and I also officially got accepted into the avatar program and we go into to training in the new year, we’ve also gotten approval from when we get shipped off to pandora Malu is going to be allowed to come with us as long as she passes all the neurological tests that will ensure that she won’t end up braindead on arrival. Virgina is against the idea of taking Malu, but there is no way on any planet or any gods, that I plan on leaving my daughter for 12 years, see that’s how long it takes to get to Pandora 6 years, some people may be able to leave their children behind(My dad for one). But I refuse.
Tommy and I have already made a deal to teach Malu Na’vi as a second language, as well as Tommy accepting that I will be teaching her Gaelic too. Studying has been going okay, I’ve finished my PHD in linguistics and only have 4 more years till I’m a certified doctor MD. The avatar program has asked me to specialise in trauma surgery in the offhanded case that someone’s avatar gets servery injured or their human body for that matter. They were already happy with me being a Linguistic so I can help others learn the Na’vi language and have a better understanding of it but when I told them I planned to study medicine as well, they were thrilled.
If I’m being honest, I’m excited to work alongside Dr Grace Augistine, she’s been my idol for as long as I can remember and I’ve read all her books. I did consider studying xenobotany and xenoanthropology. But in the end the language and medicine is what called to me, I mostly started wanting to study medicine in the hope of saving my brother, but unfortunately he was too sick and the medicine on earth just wasn’t enough to keep him alive and honestly I don’t think we had the money to pay for all his medical bills either. A lot of the money that I will be receiving from the Avatar program will be going to pay off his medical debt and the rest is going to be kept for Malu when we return. That is if we return.
I haven’t spoken to Tommy about it yet, but I inquired about receiving a permanent position over on Pandora, just like Dr Augustine has, and they told me they would be thrilled to have me stay permanently with my qualifications. I then did enquire about the possibility of Malu one day receiving her own Avatar if we do choose to stay and the higher ups said if Malu follows in my footsteps and makes herself of value they don’t see why that couldn’t be done.
I don’t want Malu to grow up on earth, it’s a dying planet and at 6 months old she hasn’t see any wildlife, known beautiful oceans and sweeping forests. All she knows is a concrete jungle of Boston, and heavily polluted Boston Harbour. Tommy doesn’t know I’ve been showing her videos and photos of Pandora and her face truly just lights up when she looks at them.
Pandora is beautiful and full of life and it isn’t dying, the native Na’vi take care of their land and their mother – Ewya rewards them for it. That’s what I want my daughter to grow up with, the teachings of the Na’vi and the beauty of Pandora. But I don’t know how Tommy will react to it if I’m being honest, though I don’t think he will be completely against it, but I know he’ll bring up his parents and Jake. Its not like I want to leave them behind, but what could they possibly offer to Pandora that would get them on a shuttle after us. When we leave it most likely will be goodbye and don’t get me wrong I will miss them but I have to think of my daughter’s future, and she will not have a future if she stays on earth.
Location: Earth Age:19-21 Year:2145-2147
Joining the avatar program is everything I ever dream it to be, but also completely different at the same time. Tommy and I ended up teaming up with another Scientist named Norm who would be joining us once we complete our training.
Norm loves it when Tommy and I bring Malu with us she’s almost two years old at this point and speaks a mixture of English, Na’vi with a few gaelic words thrown in the air every once and while. Norm says he reckons it is probably helping his Na’vi when he speaks with Malu as she doesn’t have much of an accent with her words.
I already spoke Na’vi fluently as I choose the language as my focus for when I was studying for my PHD. The teacher that had assigned to teach us Na’vi does not like me cause I corrected his Grammer and pronunciation almost in every single class and when I brought Malu it just got worse.
I enjoyed doing the Avatar simulations and felt bad for Tommy and Norm cause the first few times they did it, they ended up vomiting their guts out because they didn’t heed the warning of not eating before the simulation lessons.
During this time as well Jake got discharged from the Marines due to a spinal injury, he didn’t want to move back into his parents place so he moved into the Granny flat that is attached to my childhood home which Tommy ended up moving into after Malu was born. He barley talks to Tommy, but has been an amazing uncle to Malu, she doesn’t remember a time where her uncle Jake could walk and honestly loves going on rides on his wheelchair. Whenever Tommy and I had a training day where we couldn’t take Malu Jake always stepped up to take care of her.
Tommy was unsure of letting Jake take care of her cause ever since he got back, he’s become drunk, getting into bar fights, we’ve gotten well acquainted with the bouncers of many of the bar establishments in the city as either Tommy and I would go to pick him up. Tommy on the odd occasion would answer the phone from the bar and tell them to let him sit in a jail cell for a night in hopes it would stop this behaviour. Its truly shocking that it never worked(You can feel my sarcasm right).
Even though Jake barley spoke to Tommy, he spoke to me, well not really spoke we would just sit in communal silence on the back patio. That was always mine and jakes preferred way of communicating, no words but just knowing that we were there for one another. I know Jakes worried about us going to Pandora, but whenever I’ve brought up the idea of him possibly going with us he immediately shuts it down often saying.
“What the hell would they do with a crippled ex-marine.”
That often would get me to shut up, cause honestly, I never had an answer for him, Jake is so different from Tommy despite being twins. Which of course made sense considering they are two different people, Tommy the quiet one with the brains who studied hard and Jake the outgoing party animal turned Marine cause he always dreamed of being a hero who saved people, protect the weak from the strong.
So we just sat in silence both with a beer in hand looking at the stars, knowing that one of us was going to be staying on a dying planet and the other well they were going to be traveling through the stars next year.
Location: Earth Age:22 Year: 2148
1 week, we were 1 week away from getting out of this hellish earth. 1 Bullet changed all the plans we had made together, 1 bullet took away my husband, my best friend, my rock, the one that was always there. 1 Bullet took my daughters father away from her. The daughter that is currently holding onto me for dear life. All for the damn paper in his wallet.
He shouldn’t have been out there, he should’ve been at home, but no Tommy Sully, wanted to go out and be a good father to his daughter and buy her a new stuffed toy, for her to hold during her Cyrosleep. A Bear which is now in an evidence bag coated in her father’s blood. He wanted to get her a bear so she could name it Baloo so it would match with the stuffed panther he got her before she was born which we called Bagheera. Seeing as this is the movie and book which her name comes from.
Now we stand in the same room, well probably not the exact room but they all look and smell the same so it may as well be. Where I said goodbye to my mother and my brother.
Jake sits next to us on his wheelchair not uttering a single word, as they government fucks of SciOps speak to him about taking Tommy’s place in the program. It takes everything in me not to tell them to fuck off, we’re meant to be here saying goodbye to Tommy and these to guys are here to ensure that their millions of dollars don’t go down the drain.
My eyes shift all over the room, before finally settling on Tommy, his eyes closed and his skin sickly white almost mockingly telling me that he’s dead and I’ll never look into those blue eyes again, the same eyes that my daughter has that are currently swimming with tears. Fuck how do you even explain death to a 5 year old, Malu was only about 2-3 years old when Tommy and Jakes parents passed away, she still asks about them sometimes but accepts the fact of Tommy telling her that they went to the big beautiful castle called heaven in the sky. She’d sometimes ask if we could visit them, but Tommy would always tell her that it wasn’t her time to go to the castle yet, but Pops and Granny were there with uncle Pheonix. Guess its time to tell her that her Daddies also gone to that big beautiful castle in the sky.
But before I do any of that my daughter deserves to say goodbye to her dad without government officials breathing down our necks trying to get her uncle to take her fathers place.
“Can this conversation happen after we have said goodbye?” I don’t even look at them as I speak, but I hear them whisper to Jake that they will be waiting outside for him. I move closer with Malu so she can give her dad one last kiss before they thrown him into the incinerator. And my heart aches as I hear what my daughter whispers to him in Na’vi.
“Rest now Daddy, I’ll carry you with me always.”
Jake and I are sat on the back porch once again together both nursing a beer as we gaze up towards the sky, the same sky that Malu and I are going to be traveling through in less than a weeks’ time.
My gaze drops towards Jake in his chair as I see him sipping the bottle round in his hand.
“So… did you accept their offer?” I take a swig from the beer hoping the alcohol would ease the ache in my heart and the restlessness of my stomach news flash it did not, as I wait for Jakes answer. My gaze goes back to the sky as I look out for the different constellations in the sky, even though with all the pollution in the air its basically impossible to see.
“I don’t know, Tommy was the scientist the egghead, I’ve always been the jarhead, the two of you trained for this shit what the hell would I even do up there?” Jake shakes his head as he takes another swig.
I shrug my shoulders, “Honestly, I don’t know Jake.” I drop my head down into my hands and let out a sigh, “But, I want you to say yes.”
I can basically feel the breeze of Jakes head snapping back up to stare at me and if I know Jake which I do, he’s looking at me which wide eyes and his jarhead mouth gaping at me like one of those clowns at the fairs.
“What. Why?”
“Because,” I sit up in my chair and turn to face him directly, “I need you, I can’t go to another planet by myself with Malu, I need you there to make sure I don’t get lost in my work and forget that I have a daughter to take care of. You know Tommy would always make sure that I took breaks and I’m worried if I don’t have someone there to stop me from losing myself, I’ll neglect Malu.”
“You’re a great mother Voz, Malu adores you and you’ve always included her in your work you’ve never put your work before her?” Jake looks at me so confused as to what I’m insinuating.
I scoff as I lean back on the chair crossing one of my legs over the cross of my other knee, the black jeans stretching slightly and the oversized Harvard jersey swaying slightly in the breeze. And move one of my hands to push back brown strands of my hair that fell out of my signature messy bun.
“Because Tommy always pulled me back, I need someone to pull me back so I don’t loose sight of her. So please Jake say you’ll take Tommy’s place and come to Pandora with us.” I don’t realise I’m holding my breath as I look at Jake, waiting for what his answer maybe.
In this moment as I look at him I can see the physical similarities between him and Tommy, yes, they maybe identical twins but the two of them always looked so different to me. Especially now. Jake lifts his eyes up from his lap towards the sky before slowly turning to look at me.
“Alright then, Guess we’re going on a family trip to Pandora.”
So over on my Second blog which I created specifically for my Love of Avatar and for me finally starting to get back into writing again. I've posted the very first chapter to my Tsu'tey x OC story, this story has been in my head for years and I've finally gotten the courage to write it down and post it. its not perfect and once its fully finished I may repost it with proper edits but for now, its out there in the world for everyone to see. I hope people like it and please feel free to comment and message me about it too cause this story is all i'm thinking about it and i'm already writing up chapter 2.
Hi so I haven't written fanfiction in years, but the Avatar movie's have truly inspired me along with all the amazing stories I've been reading both here and on A03, now the idea of this fanfiction is to spread over all the movies, but the main character POV will change with each movie. The first one will be a Tsu'tey x OC, the basic outline is that OC is Tommy Sully's wife who also is apart of the avatar program. She is also the one that convinces jake to join the program after tommys death and to add a little tension, I'm also making it that she has a daughter, who may or may not become the main character for inbetween movies 1&2. I've written out a very rough draft for all of movie one and have already begun writing the full thing out. but I wanted to see if this is something people would want to read. I'm a sucker for traumatic backstories, and this one is a dosy. I also am a sucker for dadTsu'tey. please let me know if this is something yall would want to see! I can put a little more indepth description soon but Chapter 1 will be getting posted within the next day or so!
Warnings: MDNI 18+, explicit language, smut, p in v, oral (f & m receiving), mating, spanking, kissing, mentions of death, mentions of blood, mentions of injury, scary monsters, established relationship.
Word Count: 54.9k (yea I know…)
✨Disclaimer: All my characters are aged-up! If you have an issue with that, do not interact with my account or any of my posts.
✨ Okay guys, this is an immediate continuation of part 1. The blocks towards the end get longer cause I didn’t want to run out of blocks and had to make a third part. I love all the support I’ve gotten and I’m going to put a post here. This post contains spoilers for this fic but I didn’t want to publish without the warnings. Read at your own risk. I don’t think it’s anything bad but I’m not at liberty to say what triggers people so that’s why I’m putting it.
Neytiri’s stare was hard, angry, Kiri tilted her head slightly, her eyes drifting from her brother to the way he held you, like he’d physically come apart without you against him.
“I knew something was wrong.”
Jake looked at her, then back at Neteyam, before he could speak, Lo’ak spoke up, “why did you think you couldn’t tell us bro? Or me at least.”
Neteyam’s gaze softened at him, “I wanted too, I was going too.” He muttered, “but then I saw tsireya and she just reminded me so much of y/n and I got all up in my head. My thoughts twisted up and I started to see things and when I stopped seeing tsireya completely… I let it go. In my head everyone loved her, and she was with me and…” he looked down at you, “and I didn’t make the mistake of leaving you here.”
He looked back at Lo’ak and Tsireya, “and I’m sorry for how I acted, but it wasn’t… real. Tsireya is still one of my best friends and I’d never consciously do that to you.”
Lo’ak looked at him for a second before sighing, he knew his brother, he knew he was telling the truth.
Jake rubbed the back of his neck, glancing at Neytiri who’s expression still hadn’t softened.
Kiri spoke up once more, “so what now?” Her voice was clam but firm
“I want her to come back with me,” Neteyam said immediately. Neytiri’s head snapped towards him.
“To the clan?” Jake asked carefully.
“Yes.”
“That is not your decision.” Neytiri said tightly.
“Maybe not,” Neteyam agreed, “its not. But I’m not asking for permission, either she goes back with me ore I stay here.”
“And what are you asking for?” Jake narrowed his eyes.
“Trust.” Neteyam said, his grip on you tightening. “From my family, the people who love me most in this world. Trust me.”
Silence, you could feel the way their eyes passed over you, scanning your frame, your face, your expression. Like you’re not the enemy but now a friend either. Neytiri looked at her son, the way his body coiled around yours like you were made of something fragile. Her jaw clenched, she wasn’t sure how to process this.
Jake looks between them again. “Alright it’s late we fly back to the village at first light, Kiri, Lo’ak, Tsireya, well stay here tonight.” He looks towards you. “I assume there is enough space?” He points to the cabin, and you nod before looking between all of them.
“You, get some rest. Tomorrow you will ask tonowari if she can stay. And you tell the truth, all of it” he said to Neteyam.
“And if they reject her?” Neytiri asked suddenly, voice shake and challenging,
Jake looked at her then back to Neteyam, “we’ll figure it out if that happens.”
You tap his chest to let him know you’re standing up, “I’m going inside,” you whisper, and he automatically stands and lets you go, “I’ll be right there.”
Neteyam stood eyes on the doorway for a long moment, the cabin’s quiet wrapping around him while the weight of his family’s presence pressed in. You were already inside, out of sight, but your warmth still lingered on his skin. He exhaled, slow and deliberate, then turned to face them fully. The tension was palpable.
Jake had moved closer, not aggressive, but commanding, his chin tilted slightly up, arms loosely crossed. Neytiri stood rigidly near the wall, eyes narrowed, torn between protective fury and maternal caution. Kiri hovered by Lo’ak, who watched Neteyam with a confused mixture of lingering hurt and disbelief. No one spoke for a moment.
“I’m still your son,” Neteyam said finally. “But I’m not the same boy who left that battlefield.”
“You don’t need to tell us that,” Jake said. “We’ve been watching you spiral since the moment you walked back into our lives. You locked us out.”
“I know, I was scared dad,” he started softly, “I missed you, my family so much. It is the reason I left her here, I just didn’t except to miss her so much.”
Lo’ak finally stepped forward, his fists clenched at his sides, not in anger, but frustration. “You didn’t even look at me, Neteyam. You looked through me. I thought you hated me. I thought you blamed me.”
“I never blamed you; I told you that lo” Neteyam said quickly, shaking his head. “Never. I blamed the war. The cost of it. I blamed myself for being careless. I blamed Eywa for letting me live when I was ready to die.” Lo’ak blinked, caught off guard by the raw honesty. Kiri moved closer to him instinctively.
“And her?” Neytiri asked, her voice sharper now. “You trust her more than your family?”
“No,” Neteyam said. “But she saw me when I couldn’t see myself. She did what you would have done if you were with me instead of her.”
Jake stepped closer. “That’s the part we’re trying to understand. This… connection. This hold she has on you. We don’t know her. We only know what the RDA made.”
Neteyam’s jaw tensed. “She isn’t what they made. She’s what she chose to become. Just like we all are.” There was silence again, a slow realization settling in.
Kiri spoke next, softly, “You love her.” Neteyam didn’t flinch. “Yes Kiri, I literally saw her in another woman. If that’s not love I don’t know what love is. Lo’ak looked down, jaw working. “And what if she leaves? What happens to you then?”
“I don’t know,” Neteyam admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I’d rather face that pain than live with the silence I had before.”
Jake studied him a long time before he nodded slowly. “We stay tonight. We’ll speak to her in the morning. All of us.”
“And if I feel anything is off,” Neytiri added coldly, “I won’t hold back.”
Neteyam looked at her, his gaze steady. “I wouldn’t expect you to.”
No more words. No goodnight. Just the fragile, uneasy quiet of a family slowly stepping into unfamiliar territory, trusting, but not yet convinced. Neteyam turned and walked back inside. Behind him, Neytiri muttered to Jake, “That girl better be worth every scar he carries.”
Jake just watched the door close and murmured, “We’ll find out soon enough.”
Neteyam walked in leaving the door open for them to come in when they are ready. You stood in the kitchen; you turned to face him leaning against the counter behind you. Finally, you got him alone.
His steps were unrushed, but he made it to you within seconds, “hi baby,” his hands found your waist and he dipped his head in your neck inhaling your scent. “Hi..” you hug him back tightly; you were so happy to see him again. “I missed you” you said softly.
“Not as much as I missed you.” He raised his head to look down at you, brushing the hair out of your face.
“Are you sure you want me to go back with you? I don’t even speak na’vi.”
“I will teach you, I will teach you everything you need to know. I will not leave your side again. And if they reject your uturu, we will come back here. And stay together.” You smile sadly and shake your head, “Nete… I don’t want to take you away from your family. I know how much you love them.”
“If we are to come back here, they’ll know where to find me. I’m not leaving you again.”
“What happened while you were in Awa’atlu? How was it seeing your family and friends again?”
Neteyam looked down at the floor like it had personally offended him, “Well, seeing my family was everything I could have imagined. It was good; I had missed them. And it was nice seeing my friends.” “That doesn’t sound so convincing.” You squint at him.
He shifted. “It was good. I just—uh…” he rubbed the back of his neck, “I was going to leave out some things.” You open your mouth to press, but before you couple a voice came from behind him.
Lo’ak entered first, holding Tsireya’s hand, “I KNEW he was going to do this,”
Kiri followed behind him, already smiling like she knew exactly what was going on. Tsireya stood quietly with a smile. “He always chokes at the confession part.” He continued. Neteyam groaned, “seriously? I do not”
Kiri ignored him and spoke, “mhmm. Hi,” she said to you casually. “Sorry, didn’t mean to barge in or eavesdrop. Or—okay yes we did.”
Tsireya spoke next in a soft voice, “we picked fruit from your garden I hope that’s ok.” She said holding the fruit up in her other hand. You nod at her, she seemed like a very kind girl. Lo’ak dropped into a chair by the kitchen table. “Oh, don’t mind us. Keep going. You were about to lie?”
“I wasn’t going to lie—” Neteyam started, then with a pointed look continued. “I was going to protect her feeling.” His statement made you raise an eyebrow.
“From what? The fact that you though my girlfriend was her?” Lo’ak raised an eyebrow pointing at you. “Because I gotta say, that was one of the weirder things I’ve seen you do.”
“You what?” You gasped softly surprised as you smile. Kiri crossed her arms, her eyes twinkling. “Yeah, you’re supposed to explain like: ‘Hey, while I was suffering a psychotic breakdown and pining for the woman who saved my life, I kinda started projecting her face onto my brother’s girlfriend. Oops.”
Tsireya cleared her throat. “To be fair, it was very subtle at first, then he called me baby in the middle of sorting shells, it was kind of sweet though.”
Neteyam groaned, “oh Eywa.” You glance at him, your lip twitching, “baby? Really?”
“I was delusional!” He blurted. “It was a full-on delusion! You try getting shot and waking up thinking you’re dead and then fall in love with the woman who saved you from bleeding out on her couch.” Everyone was quiet for a second.
Neteyam finally looked down at you, face blushed softly. “I didn’t mean to project you onto her, I didn’t even realize I was doing it at first. But when I did, I felt sick. I didn’t realize how much I missed you, I didn’t wanna pretend anymore.”
You rub your hands in his arm softly. “It’s alright Neteyam, I can understand where you're coming from, I missed you too.” You say softly. Kiri folded her arms, “we don’t, but you are still our brother, we love you and we will stand with you.”
Lo’ak snorted. “Speak for yourself. I had to watch him cuddle with my girlfriend like she was a storybook princess. It was disturbing my peace of mind.” Tsireya smiled sheepishly. “I thought he was just being affectionate. In a brotherly way.”
“Brotherly??” Lo’ak barked, blinking at her like she grew a second head. “You really thought that? You’ve met my brother, right? Tall, broody, emotionally constipated?”
“He doesn’t cuddle with anyone. If that was brotherly affection, then I’ve been hugging people wrong my entire life.”
“At least he didn’t try to mate with Tsireya…” Jake said. The room went silent before the outburst. You didn’t even see them come inside. Neytiri stood behind Jake as she looked around the room and Jake looked at his children gathered around the table.
Lo’ak’s head snapped back to look at his dad in horror, “Dad!”
Kiri nearly choked on air, “ew! Why would you say that?”
Tsireya blinked like she was about to melt into the floor, “that’s—I— he never—”
Your head whipped to look away from everyone, leaning it on Neteyam who still stood with his arms around you to hold back your laughter. Neteyam’s voice came through, “Eywa dad...really?” He screwed his face up.
Jake just shrugged, as if it was the most rational conclusion in the world. “I’m just saying, we’ve had worse breakdowns. Remember when Kiri talked to a fish for three days and swore it was Eywa?”
“That fish guided me!” Kiri yelled, “but speaking of breakdowns, remember the time Lo’ak tried to ‘calmly’ commune with that seas turtle and it bit him?” She laughed.
Tsireya’s eyes widened, gasping as she looked at him, “you what?!”
Lo’ak groaned, “no not this….”
Neteyam smirked, “you were like, ‘I sense his peacefully energy’ and the thing latched into your finger like you owed it baskets if yovo fruit.”
Tsireya started laughing as she spoke, “I thought you cut your hand on coral!”
You cover your mouth and smile giggling softly at the story and Neteyam tighten his arm around you. The other now leaning against the counter in front of you both.
Kiri laughing at him too, “nope. Turtle bite. He screamed like Tuk does when we eat any of her fruits.” Lo’ak pointing to the finger that had gotten bit, “it crunched! I heard a crunch!” He tried to justify his scream. Neteyam laughed, “and then you ran out of the water yelling for mom saying, ‘it wants me soul!’”
Tsireya was wheezing at this point, she couldn’t even catch her breath and Lo’ak looked at her like she personally offended him. While she tried to hug him back into her good graces while trying to stop laughing but she was clearly struggling. It made you smile how sweet they were together clearly, they loved each other, you could see it even thought you had just met them.
The room pulsed with fading laughter, still echoing softly through the chine like the tail end of a good song. Tsireya was curled on Lo’ak’s lap now still removing from the hysteria with tears in her eyes as she clutched into him. Kiri was sitting in the chair next to him, mumbling something about her ribs hurting from laughing too hard, and even Neteyam wore a real, unburdened smile as he looked around at him siblings— alive, all together.
None of them really paid attention to their parents that were still standing there until the laugher settled. Jake and Neytiri hadn’t come more into the cabin but stood by the door leading outside, they were quiet. They didn’t want to interrupt the moment.
Jake stood with his arms crossed, not tensely but almost thoughtfully, and Neytiri stood with her hands clasped in front of her, watching her children with a soft, distant smile. There was a light in her eyes that hadn’t been there for weeks.
Neytiri reached for Jake and squeezed his arm gently. His thumb brushed over her knuckled as she nudged him to speak. “We’d like to speak with her.” He said voice was firm but not mean, he said as looking directly at you, “alone.” Neytiri continued for him. Her voice was more impatient as if she didn’t want to do this in the first place.
Neteyam’s smile faded just slights, replaced by a quiet protectiveness. He drew you closer against his side, instinctively, “why?”
“We just want to talk,” his mother said, her voice was again impatient, not she held no animosity for her son. Her eyes looked back at you. “You. Come. We speak now.”
“She did not keep me here mother—” he started to defend you immediately, but you stopped him. “Neteyam” you said his name softly as if to say calm down. He looked down at you his jaw was clenched slightly.
“It is alright. I will be fine.” You reassure him.
Still, he hesitated, eyes lingering in yours, “if you need me—”
“I will call.” You said in the same tone.
Jake and Neytiri stepped back outside and waited for you to joined them. A few seconds later you walked out and shut the door behind you.
“We were gonna talk to you tomorrow, but we decided to do it now.” Jake said to you.
“I figured.” You nod and wave your hand.
Neytiri’s eyes burned into you, “you’re RDA. Why are you here?”
You swallow by met her gazed. “I was apart of the RDA. I’m not anymore. I worked with them for the past three years, now I live here.” You confirm her words.
“Then why stay?” Jake asked.
“I didn’t.” You look towards them, the back to the cabin. “I didn’t stay. I was on the ship when it sunk. I could have gone back. Or turned in Neteyam when I found him. But I didn’t. I didn’t want any part of it anymore.”
“And why? Why did you not want to be apart of then? What changed?” Neytiri’s voice clipped, it was sharp and untrusting.
“When Quaritch commandeered the ship to come in search for you. That had nothing to do with me. I didn’t know anything about your life after the whole, betrayed humankind battle 20 years ago.” You look at jake. “My job wasn’t to hunt some family across the moon. I left because to find you they killed that tulkun. The mother and baby. And left it there like it meant nothing just to bait you. I might be human, but I still have a conscience, I still have a heart. After that I saw my opportunity and took it. They think I’m dead somewhere in the ocean and they can’t come look for me because they don’t know about the cabin.”
“Why did you bring him here? Why did you not bring him home? To his family?” She hissed at you.
“He couldn’t even walk the first couple weeks let alone travel. And there was no way I was coming to a clan I know I’m unwelcome in to die while I drop him off. So, he healed and and went back on his own. Which by the way? What on pandora was that? He healed impressively fast. Gunshot wound to the chest, and he was walking in the next few days?” You whisper the last sentence to them as if it was a secret.
Neytiri’s mouth was tightened, her arms still crossed, unmoving. But Jake, he studied more closely now. Clearly, they weren’t in the joking mood.
“What is it did you want to hear? That seeing his dying and saving him gave my life purpose again? I didn’t need him to die for that I had a job before. I saved him because I… I couldn’t watch someone who ran away from war die at the hands of the people he was running from. I had no problem leaving everyone else dying there because I am no stranger to death and destruction. Those things, they don’t tug on my heart string, they don’t hurt me. But isn’t that the whole reason you uprooted your whole life? Everything you’ve know. To keep your children safe? That. I can understand. It wasn’t fair he died after all that.”
Neytiri’s voice cracked through the night like a snapped bowstring. “You expect me to believe you cared for him out of kindness?”
“I didn’t expect to care about it at all. And I certainly didn’t care about him at first. I’m sure you understand that part? You don’t choose who you fall in love with. Then all of a sudden, he was so… comfortable, and we clicked and I…wanted him to stay, I didn’t even want him to go back. But what kind of person would I be if I kept him from the family I knew he missed so much?”
There was silence. Long, tense. Jake looked around at his surroundings sighing. Neytiri’s expression was unreadable, something between suspicion and something softer. Less certain.
Then a soft breeze swept past. You blinked and looked up as something brushed your temple. Floating near your face was a soft, glowing atokirina. Then another. Then a dozen.
Jake’s mouth fell slightly open and Neytiri took an unconscious step forward. They drifted around you in a slow spiral, landing gently on your shoulders, arms, and hair like glowing petals.
Your reaction?
You let out a loud, high-pitched scream and drop to your knees and cover your head before yelling. “What the fuck is—since when was flying jellyfish a thing?!” You panicked, trying to swat one away. And just like that— CRASH!
Neteyam burst through the cabin door at full sprint, tripped slightly, but caught himself mid-stumble and yelled, “Don’t! Babe, those are NOT bugs! They’re like, sacred sky dandruff!”
You froze mid-swat, staring at him in confusion. His arms picked you up off the floor and he stood behind you as you backed away, but he kept you in place.
“They’re what?!” you whispered.
“They’re called atokirina,” he corrected himself, brushing glowing seeds off your shoulders gently. “They’re sacred. You don’t smack sacred things.”
“I thought they were trying to crawl into my ears or something.”
Behind you, the cabin window creaked open.
“She was about to karate-chop Eywa’s messengers!” Kiri whisper yelled.
Lo’ak’s head popped out next to hers. “She screamed like they were attacking her!”
Tsireya gasped, half-laughing. “This is the first time I’ve seen them like this… they’re beautiful.
More and more of the glowing seeds gathered around you, making the night shimmer. Neteyam stood beside you proudly, eyes soft. You glanced at him, bewildered.
“They mean something?” you asked.
Neteyam spoke slowly. “They don’t come unless Eywa wills it. Eywa sees what I see in you.”
You looked down at your open hands, where a few had landed gently in your palms.
Behind Jake and Neytiri, were reminiscing, they had almost forgot what it felt like the night they first met, now they see that love in the eyes of their son. Neytiri’s hand slid up to Jake’s chest feeling his heartbeat as she looked towards you too. Jake with his eyes still in the scene wrapped an arm around her and kissed her temple, as if to say he’ll never forgot how it felt for them.
The kids were now looking through the door Neteyam had burst out of like nosy villagers, whispering and elbowing each other.
“She’s totally chosen,” Kiri whispered.
“She better be, after all that delusional psycho drama,” Lo’ak muttered.
Tsireya laughed so hard she nearly fell over.
Jake rubbed his temples and exhaled a long breath, glancing back at them. “You all good back there?”
Lo’ak shrugged. “Just witnessing divine intervention, no big deal.”
Jake looked at the sky, muttered, “I survived war on two planets, the RDA, and parenting four semi-feral children… and this is what breaks me.”
Neteyam, arms now wrapped lightly around your waist, deadpanned, “He’s being dramatic. You should’ve seen him when Tuk cut her own hair with a fishbone.”
Kiri cackled from the doorway. “Eywa wept that day.”
Even Neytiri snorted softly trying to hide it but failing. She looked at you again, and though she still didn’t fully trust you, something in her gaze had changed.
Maybe it was acceptance, or recognition.
The last of the atokirina drifted off into the night sky, their glow fading into the stars. You stared after them a moment longer, still stunned, until Neteyam gave your hand a gentle tug.
“Come on, everyone’s going inside now,” he said with a soft smile.
You glanced back at the cabin, where the sounds of shuffling, laughter, and Lo’ak’s dramatic commentary floated out the open door. Inside, the cozy space had been completely transformed. Mattresses and woven blankets covered the floor, layered for comfort. Neteyam had clearly raided the upstairs earlier, pillows were stacked high, and blankets spilled from the couch like a soft tide.
“What’s all this?” You asked Neteyam softly.
“Lo’ak wants to sleep next to me, he slept next to me every night since I got back and I figured since you have to get used to sleeping like this with us anyways, it’d be nice.”
You smile at his softy words and walked further into the room. Neytiri and Jake laid together on one mattress and the children laid on the other. You walked to the kitchen while Neteyam laid down with Lo’ak to tidy up and turn the lights off.
You were at the kitchen counter rinsing the last dish, working by the low light, when you heard soft footsteps behind you.
“You’re still up,” Kiri said gently, her voice not startling you this time.
You turned, a little sheepish. “Just finishing up.” You gave a small, nervous smile. “I needed something to do with my hands.”
Kiri nodded, understanding without needing more explanation. “It’s been… a day.”
You chuckled. “That’s one way to put it.”
A pause. Then she added, “You know… I’m really glad he came back.”
You smile and nod hearing her statement, you couldn’t imagine why they must have gone through for the month he wasn’t there.
She nodded. “We lost him that day. I mean—we lost him. Not just his body. He was always the one who kept things together. Even when things were bad, he held all of us in one piece. When we thought he was gone… we all sort of cracked.”
Your chest ached hearing it.
“I didn’t know how to feel when he said you were the one who saved him,” Kiri admitted. “Part of me was scared. We’ve all been raised to think ‘RDA’ and immediately brace for danger.” She shrugged. “But seeing him today? With you?”
She smiled now. Soft and honest. “He looked like Neteyam again.”
You looked down, unsure what to say. Kiri walked over and leaned her elbows on the counter beside you.
“He wants to take you back to the clan tomorrow, I think it’s a good idea,” she said, “you should go.”
You blinked. “Really?”
“Yeah.” She nudged your arm gently. “Look, it won’t be easy. There might be stares. Whispers. My mom’s probably going to have a quiet panic attack every ten minutes. But you belong with him. And he belongs with us. So, we all have to figure it out together.”
You took a slow breath, something easing in your chest.
“I’m not saying everyone will accept you right away. But you’ll have us. You’ll have me. Lo’ak. Tuk’s probably going to ask you a hundred questions and try to braid your hair. And if anyone talks nonsense,” she smirked, “we’ll throw fruit at them.”
You laughed, suddenly emotional. “Thank you.”
Kiri smiled and stood upright again. “Also, you’re definitely going to need a better introduction outfit than this.” She gestures to your outfit.
Just then, Lo’ak groaned from the living room, “Kiri, I swear if you don’t stop recruiting people into your fashion cult—”
“Go to sleep!” Kiri snapped playfully.
You heard muffled laughter. And for a moment, everything felt… lighter. “I don’t have any na’vi clothes.”
Kiri turned back to you one last time. “We’ll figure it out tomorrow. Try to rest, okay? You are family now, or… you will be soon.”
With that, she slipped back into the living room, leaving you standing there blinking fast, hand pressed over your heart. Neteyam’s family was wild. Complicated. Sometimes intense. But maybe, just maybe… they were going to be yours too.
The cabin was quiet, safe from soft snores coming from the living room. You had taken the lights off and moved to the living room. The moonlight casted a soft glow in the room, you saw Neteyam’s parents sleeping off to the side close together under a blanket. Kiri’s sleeping form facing Tsireya who’s tail was intertwined with Lo’ak’s as they slept back-to-back. And Neteyam, his body faced away from you since Lo’ak was against his back.
You walk around making sure not to wake anyone and he was still awake. Waiting for you.
His fingers brushed the blanket back for you to get in next to him. Neteyam’s fingers covered you before resting in your hip, then it moved under your t-shirt to the skin on your waist. You did t way anything as you both laid there but he broke the silence.
“I kept dreaming of this,” he whispered, voice low, deep and velvet-soft in the dark. “Of you. Just being with you.”
You brush your fingers up his arms, and he sighed at the touch, “you didn’t need to dream,” you matched his tone. “You had me.”
He gave a quiet, bitter laugh. “Not that way I needed.”
Your fingers slipped on his skin up to his shoulder and down to his collarbone. “And now?”
He didn’t answer right away. Just pulled you closer, “come closer.” As you scooted his arm wrapped around your body under your shirt, splaying in your back, his forehead rested against yours. You could feel the warmth of his body, the tension he held trying to stay still. Controlled.
“Now,” he whispered, “I don’t know how I went so long without it.”
His hand slid up your back, playing with the hook on your bra as he pulled you flush against him. Your thighs tangled. You pressed your nose to his neck, breathing in the scent of salt and earth and him.
“I missed you more than I could have imagined,” you admitted, the words fragile against his skin. “Even when I didn’t know why.”
He tilted your chin up gently. “You knew. Somewhere. I think we both did.”
For a long moment, you just looked at each other, foreheads touching, eyes open. Then he kissed you, not urgently, not desperately. Just softly. Reverently. Like he was still remembering the shape of your mouth.
When he pulled back, his lips hovered over yours.
“I didn’t know peace until you,” he breathed. You didn’t answer. You didn’t need to.
Your hand slid over his stomach, his ribs, settling against the place where his heart beat slow and steady. He pressed a kiss to your temple. Another to your shoulder. Then he held you, legs tangled under the blanket, bodies curved together like they’d never fit any other way.
“I kept thinking I made you up,” he whispered. “Every time I closed my eyes, it was you. Your voice, your hands… I’d reach for you in dreams and wake up with nothing.”
You said nothing, just leaned in until your lips found his, a kiss slow and reverent, like you were trying to breathe each other in. His hand slid to your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek as he deepened it, but kept the pace tender. There was longing in it, but also relief. Familiarity. Warmth.
You shifted closer, your chest to his now, one leg slipping between his as you held his face and kissed him again. Your lips moved with unspoken things. But everything that was just as heavy and real.
Then—
“Mmmf.” A low sound, followed by a thump against Neteyam’s back. Lo’ak through his arm over Neteyam, since you were so close it him his fingers landed in your hip under Neteyam’s arm.
You both stilled.
His forehead was pressed between Neteyam’s shoulder blades, clearly fast asleep, mouth parted in the most obnoxiously innocent way.
You pulled back slightly. Neteyam’s eyes fluttered shut for a beat.
“…Is his head still on you?” you murmured.
“Yes,” Neteyam whispered, exasperating. “Yes, it is.”
From the other side of the room, Kiri’s muffled voice: “That’s what he gets for insisting on sleeping next to you like a baby yerik.”
Neteyam groaned quietly. “He said it was ‘for safety.’”
Lo’ak stirred again, snuggling deeper against his brother’s back like a clingy cat. “’S warm,” he mumbled half-coherently.
You snorted softly into Neteyam’s chest. “This is the most romantic thing that’s ever happened to me.”
“Oh yes,” he deadpanned. “Nothing says passion like your brother spooning you mid-kiss.”
Neteyam pressed a kiss to your forehead, gentle and lingering. “Next time,” he whispered against your skin, “we wait until he’s not glued to my spine.”
“Next time?” you teased.
His voice was a low hum in your ear. “There’ll be a next time.”
And despite the absurdity of the moment, the extra limbs tangled nearby, the fact that Lo’ak was drooling slightly on Neteyam’s back, it felt impossibly warm. Sweet. Real.
You nestled into him, smiling as your eyes slipped closed. Sleep found you both easily being in each other’s arms again.
The pale morning light spilled across the cabin, thin and golden. Outside the forest hummed softly, not loud, not demanding, just present and awake. Birds stirred in the trees and the distant ocean whispered.
Neytiri was already awake with Jake, they stood near the door. Her arms were folded around her as her eyes watched her children tangled up like pups sleeping peacefully. Jake’s arms were loosely at his side, tail flicking once or twice.
“I forgot how loud they are when they all sleep together sometimes.” He said quietly. “They are peaceful like this,” Neytiri replied, though her tone had a thread if impatience under it. She was ready to leave.”
“Yeah, that’s the problem. No one wants to get up when they feel peaceful.” Jake chuckled
Neytiri smiled and turned to the cluster of limbs in the floor. Her voice was firm but low. “Wake up, we move now.”
Groans and murmured protests rose from the pile. Lo’ak rolled over with his head will against Neteyam’s back, “five more minutes please sa’nu.”
“No.”
Lo’ak groaned again and Neteyam stirred, “alright, alright, we are up.” Kiri say up with a yawn, hair a frizzed halo around her face, tsireya was already up smoothing out her hair for the trip even though she knew it’d get messy again.
Meanwhile you slowly blinked, waking up, still curled against Neteyam’s warmth. He leaned down and brushed his nose against your temple. “Good morning sevin.” He murmured softly. You didn’t respond with words only a soft hum due to tiredness.
Before you could even wake up properly the house was cleaned out off all the food that could go bad, they were talking it all to the clan. The house was tidy and locked up and everyone was outside securing last minute things into the ikran to leave.
The last of the stuff had been loaded, the sound noises the ikran made behind you always drowned out as you looked at your house. So much memories lives here, healing, laughter, tension, tenderness. Neteyam stepped behind you, quiet. His arms wrapped around your shoulders.
“I never thought I’d miss this place.” He said with a low voice.
You smile leaning back against him, “you were barely conscious for half of it.” You exaggerate.
Neteyam chuckled softly and murmured, “still.” Looking at the cabin, the smooth, sand worn edges of the roof, the worn path you both walked a hundred times to get in a out of the door, the small wind chimes you’d hung from the porch beam. “It gave me peace. Gave us time.”
You nodded. The weight of it sat quietly between you, not heavy, just meaningful. “This door was the first thing I ever saw when I realized I wasn’t dead,” he added. “And you sat there in front of me with those pretty wide eyes.”
You laughed softly, lifting your head to look at him, “you had a knife.”
“And you looked like you’d still win the fight.” He said, amused, his thumb tracing patterned on your arm. “I think I fell for you right there and didn’t even realize it.”
You smile at him, his expression was unguarded, eyes steady, “and now we’re gonna make a life together, because Eywa wills it for us to be one. I will not let anything stand in the way of that.” His voice was so gentle.
“Neither will I.” You agree softly. He kissed the side of your head softly. “Come on, let’s go before Lo’ak coming looking for me like a lost child.”
“Too late!” Lo’ak shouted from the distance. Neteyam let out a groan but tugged you along to your ikran where you mounted and took flight, looking at at your house in the distance as you felt the wind in your air. You couldn’t deny a part of you was scared about what might happen. But you were sure Neteyam was not leaving you again and because of that you’ll be okay.
The salt wind whipped past your face as the ocean village finally came into view — distant, quiet, and glowing with early light. The Metkayina home was beautiful, like it had risen straight out of the sea itself — smooth marui pods clustered over the water, connected by long, arching walkways of woven roots and wood. The turquoise lagoon sparkled below.
You hadn’t realized you’d slowed your descent until Neteyam’s ikran coasted close beside you.
He looked at you with a knowing smile. “You okay?” He remembers the first time he saw the village, it was nothing compared to the forest, but it was undoubtedly beautiful.
You gave a small nod, not trusting your voice. He held your gaze for a breath longer, then angled his ikran downward. You followed.
As the Sully family landed on the beach, villagers began to stir, eyes turned, murmurs rippled across the sand like soft wind through leaves.
Neteyam had returned here days ago, his presence wasn’t a shock.
But yours was.
You dismounted quietly, already feeling the weight of their stares. You were the outsider. The unknown.
Tsireya, who had flown in with Lo’ak, landed shortly after. She stepped off her ikran and hesitated for half a second as she spotted you. Then, quickly composed, she walked toward her parents.
Tonowari and Ronal were already emerging from their marui, drawn by the sudden arrival. Ronal’s expression was unreadable as her eyes swept over the familiar faces… and landed on yours.
She stopped walking.
Tonowari followed her gaze. His brow furrowed, not in hostility, but in question.
Lo’ak stepped forward first, ever the bridge when things got uncomfortable. “Hey, um… this is—” Neteyam cut in. “She’s with me.”
His voice was calm. Certain. Jake gave him a brief, supportive nod.
Tonowari approached, his voice deep but even. “You bring someone new.”
“I do,” Neteyam said. “She helped me. When I was hurt. She brought me back.”
Ronal stepped forward, her tone sharper. “And now she comes to stay?”
You opened your mouth to speak but found yourself hesitating under her stare. Then Neteyam stepped closer, just enough to be between you and Ronal, his presence a quiet barrier.
“She’s not here to cause trouble,” he said. “She’s just… here with me.”
“She is not of the reef,” Ronal said, folding her arms.
“She is of me,” Neteyam replied quietly. That made Ronal pause. Her eyes flicked to Tonowari.
Tonowari looked at you, then back to Neteyam. “We will talk. Come.”
Jake and Neytiri stayed close to you even though they weren’t fully in board with their son’s decision to bring you back. You were grateful for it.
And just as Tonowari and Ronal turned to lead you toward their marui, you caught a glimpse of the crowd again. Some looked confused. Others curious.
But no one said a word.
The water shimmered behind you as you followed Neteyam into the unknown, his hand brushing yours just once, just enough to let you know you weren’t alone.
Tonowari stood firm, arms crossed, but it was Ronal who moved first. She stepped down from the woven platform with deliberate grace, her eyes locked on you. Her presence was powerful, regal, commanding, and the air shifted with the weight of her expectations.
She said something sharp in Na’vi, and though you didn’t understand the words, you felt the judgment in her tone. Her hand tugged on your tail making you gasp from the slight pain it caused, and your head whipped to look at her Neteyam moved slightly closer, protective, but Ronal raised a hand and placed it firmly on his chest, stopping him.
“No,” she said coolly in English, pushing him gently but firmly backward. “Let her stand.”
Neteyam frowned, reluctant, but obeyed, stepping back beside his parents. Ronal began to slowly circle you, her gaze scanning you from head to toe. She didn’t hide the suspicion on her face, her lips tight, her brow furrowed. The silence was heavy. You were alone in the center of the platform, under the full gaze of the clan leaders and the Sullys.
Tsireya stood to the side next to a taller man you weren’t sure who it was, but he had the same expression as Tonowari. Lo’ak and Kiri stood behind Neteyam on one side of you and Jake and Neytiri stood behind you in line with him on the other.
“She is of the Sky People,” Ronal said finally, addressing the group. “And now she walks into our home… with no test? No proof of strength? Of loyalty?”
You opened your mouth to speak, but Ronal kept circling, like a large ilu measuring the movement of unfamiliar waters.
“She could bring them here. The demons who hunted you,” she said, her voice cutting through the early morning calm. “We remember the fire they brought. The blood.”
“I would never—” you tried, but she cut you off.
“You say this now. But when they come with machines and death, what will you do? Will you run? Will you call to them? Will they follow you like shadows?”
Neteyam stepped forward again, voice sharp. “She fought for me. She saved me.”
Ronal turned on him. “That is love. Not strength.”
Jake moved beside his son. “She survived alone out there, Ronal. Tended to my son’s wounds. She kept him alive when we thought he was gone.”
“She kept your son alive,” Ronal snapped back. “That does not mean she will keep ours.”
Neytiri stepped forward now, her voice low and serious. “We did not ask that you accept her without question. But you know us. You know what we have done for this clan. For you. Let her prove she is not a useless sky person.”
Tonowari finally spoke, calm but firm. “Then she will.”
You looked at him, heart pounding.
“If you are to stay,” he continued, “you must learn. You must fight like we fight. You must protect this place, our people.”
You nodded slowly, swallowing the nerves rising in your throat.
“I will.”
Ronal studied you one last time, then looked to Tonowari. She didn’t nod in approval. She turned to face Tonowari again but lifted her chin slightly, her voice rising above the stillness in the marui pod.
“There is a gathering,” she said, switching back to English for your sake. “A trial of strength and instinct. A proving.” Tonowari’s expression grew contemplative.
Ronal stepped forward again, no longer circling, but standing directly in front of you, tall and unmoving like the ocean before a storm.
“It is a rite for young warriors,” she said. “A tradition. Each cycle, our youth face the sea — they race, they hunt, they fight. It is a test of skill, trust, and unity. Those who complete it with honor are celebrated. And those who take first are remembered.”
She paused, letting her gaze press hard into you. “If you wish to stay, you will enter.” Your breath caught. Ronal continued, voice unyielding.
“And you will not simply take part. You will win.”
“Win?” Neteyam asked, stepping forward again. “She’s not trained like—”
“She will,” Ronal said sharply, without looking at him. “Or she leaves.”
“She’s not one of your warriors,” Neytiri snapped.
“She wishes to live among them. That makes her one.”
Tonowari spoke now, his voice like a steady current beneath the waves. “It is fair. You have brought her here. If she is to be trusted with our lives, she must show us she can protect them.”
Ronal added quietly, “This is not cruelty. It is survival.”
Jake looked at you. He didn’t speak, but his eyes asked the question Ronal had posed with such certainty: Can you do this?
You glanced at Neteyam, his brow was tight with frustration, but his eyes were full of belief. Soft. Fierceness. You turned back to Ronal, throat dry but voice steady.
“Then I’ll win.”
The Sullys had just stepped into their family marui. The woven walls still smelled like sea air and sun-dried shells. It felt good to be home, even after just one night away.
Kiri dropped her things by the corner hammock, stretching. “I still think Ronal wanted to fight someone.”
Lo’ak flopped belly-first onto a mat. “She always looks like that.”
Jake gave a low grunt of agreement, rubbing at his temples. Neytiri paced silently, checking on their belongings, scanning the marui like she was mentally preparing for the next war.
You and Neteyam had just stepped him, you took a second to look around the space, it was decorated with small stuff that made the mauri a home and not just a place to eat and sleep. It looks beautiful. Before anymore words could be exchanged, a high-pitched loud voice came from behind you.
Everyone turned and a small girl about seven maybe eight years old came stomping towards the mauri, Tsireya walking closely behind her with a grin like she knew what was about to happen.
“HEY!” she screamed. Her little body almost bumped into yours, if you didn’t move to the side and circle her, now standing behind her, Tsireya came to stand next to you.
“Oh no” Loak mumbled as he watched his sister angrily stomp to the middle of the mauri. “Here we go” Jake said softly at the same time.
“You all LEFT me.” Tuk started. Hands on her hips and chest puffed out, scanning every guilty face one by one. “All of you just left! Like I wouldn’t notice!”
“Babygirl—” Jake started but she quickly cut him off. “No! No, don’t babygirl me!” She cried, pointing at her dad like a disappointed elder. “You’re my daddy! Yours supposed to take me everywhere!”
Lo’ak snorted, “It wasn’t planned. It just happened and we couldn’t come get you.”
“Oh. It just happened. Like a surprise party? But I was the only one not invited.” She shouted and you cover your mouth to stop yourself from laughing, she reminded you of you when you were that age.
“We didn’t even bring any supplies—” Kiri added gently.
“SAVE IT.” Tuk shouted and raised her hand high up in the air. “While you all were off having an adventure! I was scraping barnacles off the underneath of a canoe! And doing important Tsahìk things!”
“You were safe, you had fun that’s what’s important” Neteyam smiled at his youngest sister. Her wrath turned to him now, “and you! You were my favorite! And you just left me! Didn’t even leave a note!”
“I was compromised, spear me.” Neteyam raised his hand, showing her his palm as a gesture to stop casually, as if that ever worked on Tuk.
“I heard she did very well and had lots of fun. Mother told me she was terrorizing Ao’nung until She fell asleep. Honestly, I’m impressed.” Her statement made Loak and Neteyam laugh thinking about the hell Ao’nung must have gone through.
As if Tuk clocked the unfamiliar face mid performance, she spun her little body around to face you. Her hand still on her hips as she looked at your suspiciously. “Who are you? Where did you come from?”
“I—” you stated feeling like she put you on the spot which you weren’t expecting. “I’m your brother’s….friend?” You say unsure your eyes dart up to Neteyam’s who immediately had an offended look on his face.
“My friend? You're my friend—” he started before Tuk cut him off. “You like games?”
“Yea”
“Okay, you can stay.” She walked over to Lo’ak and dropped your little body over his lap and took the fruit her had and started to eat it while Neteyam continued. “After all that your my friend?”
“I— I mean yea, you never asked me to be your girlfriend.” Your statement made Jake laugh, it was such an earth thing for you to say. It immediately triggered memories of interactions with women he had when he was on earth all those years ago. Neteyam whipped his head to his father then back at you, “but I love you!”
“Which you told everyone but me.” Your smile and stress your words. Which made Neteyam sigh and shake his head. He knew how you felt about him and you knew how he felt. You both were in love and had openly admitted it. But not to each other. “What is so funny?” He glanced back to his dad.
“No- nothing. It’s just, on Earth you don’t court before mating. You date, you exclusive date by asking a woman to be your girlfriend. You assumed she was your girlfriend but she’s still single cause you didn’t ask.” Jake explained to Neteyam while chuckling softly. Neteyam’s eyes go back to you as if to confirm what he had just heard and when you nodded he sighed again.
He walked up to you and lead you out of the mauri leaving everyone behind who had started their own conversation by now. “Baby did you seriously think your not my girlfriend after all that?”
“No, I knew, I just wanted to hear you say it. I wanted to hear you ask me.” You smile up at him and run your hands up his arm.
“I love you, I love you so much. You’re the love of my life, I’m sure of it, and I’ve never felt like this about anyone before. Will you be my girlfriend.” His voice was gentle, sweet, calm and deep. Everything you wanted to hear.
You practically felt the heart eyes when you were looking at him speak to you like you were the most important girl in the world. “I love you too,” you whisper. “Of course, I’ll be your girlfriend” you smile widely at him with a small giggle bubbling up with your chest. Your body felt giddy, hearing him say it was so different than just knowing.
He smiled and leaned down to kiss you, luckily he had pulled you out of sight from the mauri so no one saw. Just a private moment in the clan you were determined to spend forever with him in. And you were sure it’d be the first of many.
His lips were soft you felt him deepen the kiss and you almost melted before he pulled away and rested his forehead against yours.
The day passed fairly easily. You didn’t leave the mauri all day, all you did was sit down and process everything that happened in the past couple days. You were beyond happy when neteyam came back for you, and you don’t regret anything, but you can’t help but feel a bit scared, overthinking everything you may have to do to stay with him.
Everyone was in a out of the Mauri all day, Lo’ak and Tsireya went out earlier and came back, then Tuk stating she needed everyone to make it up to her, Jake and Neytiri carried her to play on the beach, while we got to spend some time together and ask her all about her night with Ronal. Neteyam stayed with you most of the day, he sat with you and spoke to you, started to teach you some na’vi while you had the time and he fed you fruits. You told him you could do it yourself, but he insisted not wanting to ‘mess up your pretty little fingers’
He was amazing. Later in the evening Tsireya came back with a pile of clothes for you, since you had to change out of the human clothes you currently wore. She and Kiri both decided to help you get dressed and show you to how knot the clothes and how they were supposed to fit. It was like having sisters. While you three did that, Neteyam and Lo’ak went to meet up with Ao’nung and some friends.
“Okay, arms up,” Tsireya said, guiding a soft wrap of fabric around your chest. “This part’s the trickiest if you don’t want it slipping off in the middle of dinner.”
“She’s not joking,” Kiri chimed in, tightening the side ties at your waist. “One strong breeze and boom scandal.”
You laughed nervously. “That’s comforting.”
Kiri stood back and eyed you critically, then smirked. “Wow. Neteyam’s going to forget how to talk.” Tsireya gave you a teasing look. “Forget talking, he might forget how to blink.”
You blushed. “It’s not that serious.”
“No, it is,” Kiri said, tapping your arm. “You’ve got curves that don’t quit and legs like they were carved by Eywa herself.”
“And this color—” Tsireya gestured to the top, “—makes your skin glow. Honestly, it’s not fair.”
“Stop hyping me up. I’m gonna trip over my own feet.”
Kiri grinned. “Trip right into Neteyam’s arms.” Suddenly, the flap to the marui rustled open. Lo’ak’s voice: “Yo, we’re back!” The three of you went still.
“Hide me,” you whispered jokingly. Tsireya called out from behind the divider, “We’re decent-adjacent! Stay where you are!” Lo’ak laughed. “That’s not a thing.” Then came another voice, Aonung’s.
“Is she in there?” he asked. “New girl?”
“She’s there” Kiri called. “And busy.”
“Who is that?” You whisper to them. “That is my brother, Aonung, he was in the mauri this morning with my parents, standing next to me.” Tsireya answered softly.
“Shame. Was hoping to see for myself.” That earned a sharp look from Neteyam, who stood beside him. “You don’t need to see anything.”
Aonung raised an eyebrow. “Relax, bro. I’m just saying, I’m trying to introduce myself properly.” Tsireya turned toward you with a slow, dramatic grin.
“He hasn’t even seen you yet and he’s already flirty,” she whispered. “You better brace yourself.” You took a breath. “Okay… let’s get this over with.” You stepped out from behind the divider and everything in the marui seemed to stop.
Aonung blinked, then let out a low whistle. “Well, you don’t look good. You look dangerous. I’m Ao’nung, Tsireya’s older brother. Neteyam is a lucky man.” He smirked.
Neteyam stepped in front of him almost instantly, not aggressive, but protective. His jaw was tight.
“That’s enough.”
Aonung held up his hands. “Just a compliment. Chill.” But Neteyam’s eyes were no longer on him. They were on you. And for a second, it was like no one else existed. He stepped closer, slowly, like he was afraid to break the moment.
“You…” His voice was quiet. “You look…”
He trailed off, eyes scanning your form, taking in the way the soft Na’vi fabrics hugged you, the way your skin caught the last light of the setting sun. You were radiant.
“…gorgeous,” he finished, almost in awe.
You smiled shyly. “You think?”
“I know,” he said. “You look like you’ve always belonged here.”
Behind him, Lo’ak leaned to Aonung. “Told you she’s the reason he’s been weird all day.” Kiri made gagging noises and Tsireya giggling.
But Neteyam ignored them. For the first time since returning to the clan, he was completely still, his whole world centered on you.
And you, glowing under his gaze, couldn’t help but feel like this was exactly where you were meant to be.
Tsireya started to usher everyone out despite any protest as Neteyam stepped closer to you. His hands can to your waist and trailed down to your exposed hips and back up. “You really think I look pretty?” You ask him softly.
“If sweetheart? You look incredible, you look like my girl.” He whispered then leaned in for a kiss. His lips were soft as he kissed you, deepening it when you kissed him back. Your arms wrap around his neck rubbing down to his arms them back up to his jaw with a soft hum.
He pushed you to walk back until you were once again behind the divider and up against the wall, and he didn’t stop. Only pushing himself up onto you, trapping you in the smallest space he could. Neteyam didn’t want to stop, he wanted to mark you up before he let you go outside like this. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to stare at you forever or take you away so no one could ever see you like this except him.
“Nete…” you moaned as he pulled his lips away and attacked your neck. “Hmm?” He replied as he started to suck on your skin.
“Your— your parents will be back soon we should—” you start with a giggle but ended in moans, but he cuts you off with a small shush.
“We have time.” He whispered against your skin. His hands came up to your well tied top and pushed it up, he didn’t even bother to untie it, he just wanted to expose you. His hands cupped your tits pushing you further into the wall and you couldn’t help but moan at his hands on you.
Neteyam squeezes your tits slightly bringing the nipple up to his mouth to kiss it before he sucks it into his mouth, he swirls his tongue on you and when he’s had enough, he moves onto the next. Your tail lashes the wall at you start to feel his movements send chills straight to your core. Your head lolls back and your mouth opens in a silent scream.
Neteyam pulls away and looks at you, just for a moment but he stares, your expression, your panting, your messy hair. He owned it, owned you. And he loved it so much. He spins yours round and pushes your head against the wall, pulling your hips back so you were bent over nothing against it. Your hands moved up to the wall next to your head to hold you up as Neteyam pulled the little piece of cloth covering your cunt to the side.
His finger slid down your asshole to your other hold feeling the slick he already made you start leaking. With a smirk he chuckled and used his other hand to pull your ass cheeks apart, so he had a better view. “Fuck look at that, haven’t even done anything to you and your dripping baby.” He cursed softly in Na’vi as you sucked his finger in as he entered, he wasn’t sure he even needed to stretch you out to take him, but he wanted to.
Neteyam’s finger started to speed up before he added another one. Your tail thrashed in the air before it wrapped around his forearm. You tried to be quiet just in case, you really did but Neteyam just had a way of touching you like no one before, you couldn’t stop yourself from moaning and hissing under his fingers. His fingers sped up some more, giving you some hard thrust right into your g-spot. You couldn’t even form words to tell him his good he was making you feel. Until he slowed down and pulled out giving your ass a sweet spank as he did.
Neteyam pushed down his tweng and exposed his hard cock that hit your ass when he bounced out. The same hand he had inside you he pumped his cock with, spreading the juices on his fingers over himself.
“Ready for me sevin?” He leaned down to your ear and whisper. His left hand spread you open before you had a chance to answer and the other held his cock as he pushed into your tight hole.
It had been months since either of you felt each other like this. Your eyes rolled and he gritted his teeth squeezing his eyes shut as he bottomed out. His hand moved from your ass to over your head against the wall so he could lean down closer to you and his other hand held your hips with a tight grip, as if to ground him.
Neteyam cursed into the air as he heard your sweet sounds and breaths from just feeling his cock enter you. His thrust started slow, getting a feel for something he missed so much. You felt his breath on your shoulder as he started to fuck the breath out of your lungs.
“Oh fuck...” you stutter out as he fucks you into the wall, moaning with your cheek pressed up against it. Neteyam lays small kisses on your shoulder like he’s not fucking your like it’s the last time he’ll ever get too. You had just started but your legs were already shaking holding yourself up.
“You’re mine,” he murmured into your ear, his words both a claim and an admission. The tightness surrounding him bringing him to the edge so quickly. His voice was hoarse, filled with possessive need.
“Mhmm I’m yours,” you stutter back to him. Neteyam growls softly at your words, his possessive grip on you growing tighter. “Say it again.” He commanded, his voice rough with desire. “I want to hear you say it.”
“I’m yours tey-teyam.” You moan out. His response was a low, primal growl that reverberated through his chest. Hearing those words come from your lips drove him wild, igniting the most possessive instincts within him. “Damn right you are baby,” he growled, his hands gripping tighter you were sure you’d have marks when he was done.
His thrust speeds up, his body becoming more and more consumed with you. He continued to speak with a low, gravelly whisper in your ear. “You’re all mine,” he repeated, his words wit h devotion. “Every inch of you, every part. Mine to touch, mine to claim, mine forever.”
You let out a heavy, loud moan as the air was forced out of you. You really did love hearing his voice in your ear, especially like this. Neteyam watched your eyes roll back, a surge of satisfaction coursing through him at the effect he was having on you. His touch was drowning, and his grip was tight and commanding. As he continued to fuck you, wanting to bring you over the edge and beyond, “can you feel it?” He growled; his voice was thick with desire. “The way your body responds to me, the way your arch so fucking perfectly into me. It’s because your mine. Mine to take, mine to keep baby.”
His thrust becomes harder, your fingers turning white from the force you were pushing against the wall to push your ass back into him. “Mhmmmm” you moan as you bit your lip.
Neteyam’s grip on you tightens as you begin to press back against him, his own hips thrusting forward to meet yours with growing intensity. His breathing grew heavier, his body consumed by primal need to claim you, to make you his in every sense of the word. “You asking for more sweetness?” His asked, voice a hoarse whisper.
He didn’t wait for you to answer before he continued, “because I’ll give you all the more you can handle and then some.” His forehead hit your shoulder, “I’ll take you so hard and deep, you’ll forget your own name. You’ll only remember who you belong to.”
You nod eagerly and giggle out with a smile, “yes pleaseee”
He responded with a deep possessive growl as you nodded. The way you said ‘yes please’ sent shivers down his spine straight to the tip of his tail and the bottom of his toes. “That’s my good fucking girl.” He says through gritted teeth. “You want more, do you baby?”
You again eagerly nodded with a “yes, yes please.” His desire was growing stronger with every word. He could feel your eagerness, your submission, and it only fueled his primal need to take you completely. His hand that rested on the wall he put on the side of your head pressing you in more. He raised his body off yours a bit but not so far, he couldn’t see your face. “Yea take it baby, take it all.” He starts to meet your thrust, pounding you harder. The sound of skin slapping surely filled the room. You were suddenly grateful Tsireya had taken everyone out.
“Oh, fuck yessss—I’m gonna cummmm.” Your voice raised a pitch as you screamed out loudly. Neteyam’s breath hitched as he heard your words, his own release growing closer as he felt you trembling with pleasure. He knew you were close, and he was determined to push you over the edge. “That’s it,” he growled, his voice a low and possessive rumble. “Come for me, darling. Let me see you fall apart.”
His words send you over the edge and I make a mess cumming in his cock. Neteyam’s grip tightened as you came, his body pressing harder against yours as he held you close. He could feel your pleasure, your convulsions, the way you trembled with intensity. A primal sense of satisfaction washed over him as he held you. It didn’t take him long to join you in the aftermath bliss. He didn’t even ask before he pumped you full of his cum whispering to you about how good you took him, not that you minded him coming in you. It felt so good, “that’s it, he murmured. “My perfect, perfect girl.”
Neteyam pulls his cock out and fixes your clothes to keep his cum snug inside your hole as he straightens up. He pulls you up and turns you around smoothening out your hair as you lean against the wall holding onto him for support before he fixes your top ensuring it fits properly before he takes you back into the main space of the mauri and sits down on a cushion against the wall pulling you flush to his chest in front of him as he kisses you softly anywhere he could reach and hugs you.
You both get comfortable just in time for everyone to file back into the marui. You sat with your back resting against Neteyam’s chest by the fire pit, his arms gently wrapped around your waist. You held a cup of water in your hands, still trying to shake the post-high haze of what just happened. His chin was on your shoulder, and his nose occasionally nuzzled your neck like he couldn’t help himself. You were both quiet, but your shared grin said everything.
The flap of the marui rustled. Neytiri stepped in first with Jake right behind, Tuk skipping in excitedly ahead of them, holding some kind of half-wet seaweed braid and some shells. “Mom! Look, this one looks like a heart!” Tuk beamed, swishing it proudly behind her.
Neytiri gave a small hum of approval, “it’s very pretty Tuk,” ruffling her daughter’s hair. Jake, however, squinted slightly, eyes trailing to the two of you on the far side of the marui. One eyebrow rose. The corner of his mouth twitched.
Neteyam didn’t move. Then the flap opened again.
Lo’ak, Kiri, Tsireya, and Aonung filed in with the kind of timing that screamed suspicious. All four of them were way too calm, like they’d rehearsed this.
Lo’ak faked a big stretch. “Whew. Anyone else feel the ground shaking earlier? Thought we had another underwater tremor.”
Kiri gave a mock-serious nod. “Yeah, something was definitely rumbling. Almost rhythmic.”
Tsireya giggled behind her hand. “Very… passionate tectonic activity.”
Aonung raised a brow. “Might want to get the structure checked. Sounded like someone was, you know, testing the foundations.”
You froze mid-sip. Neteyam still didn’t flinch, just kissed your cheek with a smug little smirk.
Lo’ak plopped down by the fire, glancing over. “Wow, bro, you’re glowing. Must’ve been an intense conversation you two were having.”
Kiri threw in innocently, “Lots of… vocal articulation. So expressive.”
Aonung chuckled. “Heard some spiritual bonding going on.”
You turned slowly, your eyes wide with dawning horror.
Neteyam blinked. “Are you guys done?”
“Just warming up,” Lo’ak grinned.
Jake cleared his throat, cutting in smoothly. “I assume whatever this is… doesn’t need to be explained in front of Tuk.”
Lo’ak threw up his hands. “Of course not! We’re just talking about… architecture.”
“Sound design,” Tsireya added.
Jake gave Neteyam one last look. “Just don’t break the walls.”
Neteyam, utterly unbothered, smirked and pulled you a little closer. “They’re still standing, aren’t they?”
You slapped his thigh gently with the back of your hand. “Don’t encourage them.”
He leaned in, voice low in your ear. “Why? I’m proud.”
You groaned, but you were smiling too, unable to fight the laughter bubbling under your breath.
From across the fire, Kiri whispered to Lo’ak, “We’re never letting them live this down.”
The soft crackling of the fire pit filled the marui with a warm, comforting hum. The glow danced across everyone’s faces as the group settled in around the circle. You were leaning against the wall, nestled between Neteyam’s legs, his arms loosely wrapped around your waist, his chin resting against your shoulder. His body radiated a calm strength, grounding you, even as your nerves ticked with questions. Everyone settled into a loose circle around the fire and ate engaging in conversation together.
You took a sip of water, then looked around the fire. “So… about this competition,” you started, voice low but clear. “Ronal said I have to win it. But no one’s actually told me what it is.”
Tsireya smiled kindly. “That’s because no one ever really knows. It changes every year.”
“It’s three trials,” Aonung added. “Spread over three days. Each one more brutal than the last.”
You raised a brow. “Brutal?”
“Each trial test different things,” Kiri chimed in. “Strength, spirit, endurance, intelligence, survival instincts…”
“Fear,” Neteyam said softly, his breath brushing your neck. “They like to test that, too.”
Your fingers tightened a little around your cup. “Alright, then what did you do?”
Neteyam’s voice dropped a little, quiet just for you. “First day, they dropped me blindfolded in the middle of nowhere. I had to navigate back to shore through reef spikes and currents. Couldn’t see anything. Had to feel the pull of the ocean.”
You turned your head slightly, startled. “That’s insane.”
He gave a soft chuckle. “Second day, they had me scale the Mistwall cliffs during a wind surge to retrieve a warrior’s band. The vines were slick, brittle. No rope. If I fell, I’d land in razor coral.”
Lo’ak leaned forward dramatically. “He almost fell.”
Neteyam just smirked and continued, “Third day, I was sent into a flooded cave system at night. No torch. No map. The tide rose halfway through. If you didn’t find the exit before the moon reached the peak, you drowned.”
You stared. “Okay, that’s actually insane.”
“But he won,” Tsireya said softly, admiration clear in her tone.
Lo’ak grinned. “Mine was more fun. First day, open ocean sprint on a skimwing, had to ride it into a ring of rock pillars during a lightning storm.”
You blinked. “What happens if you fall?”
“You don’t fall,” he said smugly. “Or you get struck or drown.”
“Second day,” Lo’ak continued, “I had to out swim a tidal wave through the Veiled Caverns. The currents change every minute. If you miscalculate… you’re done.”
“And the third?” you asked, a little hesitantly.
“They drenched me in a type of blood scent that attract predators and dropped me into the mangrove,” he said, popping a bite of food in his mouth. “We had to avoid the predators until the sunrise.
You gave a horrified laugh. “Who designs these?!”
“Elders,” Aonung said flatly but then continued, “our clan has been doing these trails since the time of the first songs. It keeps the clan warriors humble but also trained, in case anything was to happen, they can handle defending the clan.”
You looked at him. “And yours?”
He leaned back with a shrug. “First day, swim relay with weighted net packs around the reef ring. You either make it before your air runs out or you don’t.”
“Second day?” you asked.
“Hand-to-hand combat, but blindfolded. You only pass if you pin your opponent without hurting them. Took me four tries.”
“Third?” Aonung smiled crookedly. “You ever climb an oil-slicked smooth tree in the rain 70 feet high with a flare that can’t go out or explode?”
You just stared at him. “I did,” he added. “And I won.”
Tsireya rested her chin in her hand. “If you don’t finish your task, you can’t retake it. You wait a whole year to try again.”
“That’s… insane,” you murmured again.
Neteyam gently rested his forehead against your shoulder, voice low so only you heard. “You won’t have to wait.”
You tilted your head back against him slightly. “You sound sure.”
“I am,” he murmured. “I’m sure you survive worse.”
A thoughtful silence settled over the group as the fire crackled softly between you. You sat with your back against Neteyam’s chest, his arms loosely wrapped around you, your cup of water resting between your palms. The stories of their trials still lingered in your head, images of rising tides, blindfolded climbs, and sprinting through reef forests with a blade in hand. It was overwhelming.
“When do the trials begin?” you finally asked, voice quiet.
“Two weeks from now,” Tsireya answered gently. “They always wait for the tides to shift and the moon to rise full. That’s when the clan gathers and watches.”
You blinked. “Two weeks?” Whipping my head to look at her
“That’s more than enough time to turn you into a beast,” Lo’ak grinned, reaching for another piece of fruit. “If you don’t mind bleeding a little.”
You gave him a look. “I’m already bleeding a little.” Aonung chuckled. “Then you’ll fit right in.”
Kiri sat cross-legged across the circle, picking at a shellfish. “They always give time for prep—physical, spiritual, mental. You’ll need it. The trials are different every year, but they all test core strengths. You have to be ready for anything.”
“I want to be,” you said. “I want to win.”
“You will,” Neteyam said quietly behind you. “Because you have all of us.”
He kissed your shoulder softly, voice steady in your ear. “We’re going to train you every day. From the moment the sun rises until your body tells you to quit. And even then, we’ll keep going.” You looked around the fire at the faces watching you, some grinning, some serious, but all of them with the same unwavering loyalty.
“We’ve all been through it,” Aonung said, gesturing between himself, Lo’ak, and Neteyam. “We know what it takes. We’ll push you harder than you’ve ever been pushed.”
“I don’t think that’s possible.” I laugh softly at his words.
“We’ll simulate trial conditions,” Tsireya offered. “We’ll get you used to swimming blindfolded, tracking by sound, fighting underwater.”
Kiri smiled knowingly. “And I’ll handle the healing in between.”
Lo’ak scoffed. “She’s gonna need it.”
Neteyam chuckled under his breath. “You needed it more than I did.”
“Okay, relax,” Lo’ak muttered, tossing a berry at him.
You smiled, warmth blooming in your chest despite the nerves. You weren’t alone. And you weren’t just surviving, you were training to thrive.
“Alright,” you said. “Let’s win this.”
“Hell yeah,” Lo’ak grinned.
The two weeks that followed weren’t just intense — they were brutal.
Training started before the sun rose and ended only when your body had nothing left to give. You were thrown into everything all at once: swimming, diving, fighting, endurance, culture, breath work, language. The days blurred together in a storm of movement, soreness, and new skills. But not once were you alone.
Everyone who had sat with you at that fire, Neteyam, Lo’ak, Kiri, Tsireya, Aonung, even Jake and Neytiri, made it their mission to turn you into someone who didn’t just survive the trials ahead, but someone who could win.
Tsireya took the lead on water training. Elegant but fierce, she guided you through ocean currents and ilu maneuvers like she’d been born with gills. She taught you the Metkayina sign language for underwater use, patient when you fumbled it, teasing when you got too cocky. She’d flash a grin underwater and sign something cheeky like “Try not to drown today.” Somehow, her kindness made even the hardest swims feel doable.
Kiri helped you learn to read the environment, the way the ocean whispered danger, how to trust your senses. She also handled your healing, crafting pastes and teas for your aching muscles. She taught you how to see the environment and creatures in a different light. One night, she braided your hair in the traditional Omatikaya style, her hands surprisingly gentle. “You’re one of us now,” she murmured, fingers weaving through your hair. “You carry pieces of all of us.”
Aonung took strength training personally. He barked orders, shoved you to your limits, and made you do impossible climbs with no breaks. But you started to realize that was just his way, he pushed people he respected. Even when you were wheezing halfway up a cliff, he’d just cross his arms and smirk, saying, “You wanted to be ready. This is what ready feels like.”
Lo’ak was chaos. He turned training into challenges, bets, and games. He’d drag you into coral mazes or dare you to outrun skimwings just for fun. “Fear’s your worst enemy,” he told you, hanging off a tree branch upside down. “So, you might as well laugh in its face.” He was focused when he needed to be, teaching you how to be stealthy and how to read ocean currents like it was a different language, even boasting about how good a tracker he was, which wasn’t a lie.
Jake was the quiet cornerstone. He understood better than anyone what it was like to shift into a new body, a new world, and feel completely unanchored. He didn’t yell or correct , he guided. When your instincts failed you, he didn’t shame you. He reminded you, gently, that your strength came from two worlds. “You’ve got something none of them do,” he said once, tapping your chest. “You’re built for this in ways they haven’t seen yet.”
Even Neytiri, who had been wary at first, warmed to you. She helped refine your movements — teaching you how to fight like a Na’vi. Her elegance was dangerous, and when she moved, it was like poetry with claws. She never smiled during training, but there was something in her eyes — a flicker of approval, when you finally got something right. And that meant more than any words could’ve.
Then there was Neteyam didn’t claim one training area. He filled all the spaces in between, sharpening your footwork, correcting your hand position, swimming beside you when your legs gave out. He made sure you were safe, steady, cared for. When you stumbled back sore and bruised, he was already waiting with warmed salve, his hands steady as he pressed it into your skin.
“You took care of me when I couldn’t walk,” he said softly one night, kneeling behind you. “Let me return the favor.” He never asked for anything in return. But you started to feel his presence even when he wasn’t touching you, the gravity of his loyalty, the quiet way he watched you succeed and fail and never turned away.
By the time the two weeks passed, the group gathered for a final test on a wide, sun-warmed sandbar. Lo’ak tossed you a sparring stick. “Alright, killer. Time to show us what you’ve got.”
You rolled your neck and caught it one-handed. “You sure you’re ready for this?”
Aonung cracked his knuckles and stepped forward first. “Let’s find out.”
He came at you fast, striking low, then high, then ramming into you with his shoulder. You stumbled back, but planted your foot and spun, ducking under his arm. He caught you with a glancing elbow, but you twisted, grabbed his wrist, and pulled him down over your hip. He hit the sand hard with a thud.
Tuk shrieked from where she sat with Kiri. “HE FELL LIKE A TREE!”
Aonung wheezed out a laugh. “That was… not how I thought that’d go.”
Then came Lo’ak, quick and wild. He threw two punches, blocked your first jab, and swept your legs. You landed with a thud but rolled back to your feet.
“C’mon!” he called. “You’re slacking!”
You smirked, ducked a swing, and slammed your staff against his ribs. He grunted, staggered—then you caught him with a sharp elbow to the gut and twisted him down onto the sand.
Lo’ak groaned. “She fights dirty!”
“You’re still on the ground though,” you teased.
Then, unexpectedly, Jake stepped onto the sand. The laughter died instantly. You blinked. “…You serious?”
Jake tilted his head. “Last test. You ready?”
Neteyam immediately stepped in, tense. “Dad—hold up. She’s already gone through two fights already, and you don’t pull punches.”
But you placed a hand on his chest and stepped forward. “Baby I got this” whispering to him. Neteyam hesitated, jaw tight, but gave you a small nod.
Jake was every bit the warrior you heard about, calculated, fast, relentless. He swept your legs, jabbed your side, came in with force that made your muscles burn just blocking him. You absorbed it, adjusted your stance, remembered everything you’d learned. You feinted, dipped low, and slammed your staff into his back.
Jake staggered, then laughed as he straightened. “Damn. You’ve been holding back.”
Tuk ran up with wide eyes and a mouth full of berries. “YOU BEAT DAD! You’re, like, the champion of everything now!”
You laughed, panting, flushed with adrenaline. But your eyes were already on Neteyam.
He stepped close, voice low and thick with pride. “You were… Eywa, you were perfect out there.”
You arched an eyebrow. “Perfect?”
He leaned in, his voice dropping even lower. “Strong. Smart. Fast. You didn’t just beat them. You commanded them. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything as badly as I wanted to see you move like that again.” You swallowed, heat crawling under your skin.
“I mean…” he added with a sly smirk, “I’m still not convinced I wouldn’t win in a one-on-one.”
You tilted your head. “You sure?”
He leaned in closer, his lips brushing your ear. “Not even a little. In fact, I’d kind of like you to try. Right now. Somewhere private.”
You felt your breath hitch, and then a small voice piped up behind you. “Are you guys gonna spar again?!” Tuk asked, walking up and grabbing Neteyam’s hand. “Can I watch this time?!”
Neteyam froze. You stifled a laugh as he cleared his throat. “Uh… no, Tuk. This one’s… advanced training.”
She pouted. “Ugh. You two are always doing stuff without me.” Kiri rolled her eyes, dragging Tuk back. “Trust me, Tuk—you don’t want to see that kind of training.”
Aonung groaned from where he still lay on the sand. “I think I’m going to be sore for a week.” Lo’ak flopped beside him. “Bro… we raised a monster.” But all you could focus on was Neteyam, who took your hand quietly, his eyes still full of heat.
“Later, after the ceremony,” he whispered. “You and me. One more round.”
You squeezed his fingers with a grin. “You better hope you win.”
He chuckled. “That’s the plan.” And with the whole family laughing and sore around you, you finally felt it. Like you belonged.
You stood perfectly still as Kiri secured the final twist of your braid, fingers careful and practiced. Tsireya leaned over your shoulder, stringing a final set of small shells and beads around your waist—each piece of jewelry handpicked for grace, balance, and just a touch of allure. Your top was woven delicately from strands of sea silk and lined with shimmering reefstone, framing your form without hiding much. Your waist was wrapped in soft, flowing cloth, slit high on both sides to leave your legs free and your strength unhidden. Metkayina ceremonial wear wasn’t just beautiful—it announced you without a single word.
“You look like the ocean came to life,” Tsireya whispered with a small smile. She braided a single red feather behind your right ear, its stripes identical to the one Neteyam wore tucked in his hair. “This is from him. He left it this morning.” Your heartbeat louder than the drums already echoing across the reef.
Kiri tilted her head as she took you in. “I kind of want to fight you. But also? I’d totally lose.” She snorted, then gently pushed your shoulder. “Come on, sexy sea warrior. Time to terrify the clan.”
When you stepped out into the open reef, lit by the golden glow of the twin moons and flickering torchlight, the noise around the gathering dimmed. Warriors, families, elders, and children lined the moonlit reef, all drawn toward the ceremonial circle where Ronal and Tonowari stood beneath a great arch of woven coral and glowing jellylight.
Neteyam had spotted you first from his place next to Aonung and Lo’ak. And you could tell from his expression, lips slightly parted, eyes low and slow, that whatever thoughts he had weren’t suitable for this sacred ceremony. He didn’t say a word until you passed him.
“You’re trying to kill me,” he said under his breath, tone low and teasing, dripping with restrained heat. “You walk out looking like that, and expect me to focus?”
You smirked as you moved past. “Maybe I want you distracted.”
He gave a quiet, desperate laugh, then leaned in closer, murmuring just behind your ear, “Just so you know, if you survive these trials looking like that… I’m not going to survive you.”
“You look like you were carved out of something I’m not supposed to touch,” he went on, words slower now, more tangled, “and all I can think about is how badly I want to break that rule.”
Your breath caught. He smirked, caught it, and then leaned in just slightly closer, his voice a whisper now. “You take on sea monsters tomorrow,” he murmured, “but tonight, all I want is to feel your hands on me like I’m the one you’re trying to conquer.”
Then he paused, eyes flicking down, like he regretted saying that much, and added with a laugh in his throat, “You know, for… sparring purposes.”
You raised a brow. “Oh? You want to spar?”
“Desperately,” he said.
Tuk piped up innocently nearby, “Why is Neteyam making that weird face?”
Kiri choked on a snort. “Because his brain stopped working.”
The crowd rippled with tension as the drums began. Ronal and Tonowari stood beneath a woven archway of sacred coral, flanked by glowing torches and ocean banners snapping in the wind. The whole clan had gathered, warriors, elders, children. Some were singing soft songs of blessing. Others stood dead silent, watching every movement.
Tonowari raised his hands and called, “The Warrior’s Path begins.”
Ronal followed, voice ringing with power. “Five have stepped forward. Five seek the right to stand among the protectors of this reef. Chosen by Eywa. Watched by all.”
“Come,” Tonowari called, “and hear your fate.”
You stood in a line with the others, two young men and two women, all Metkayina-born and well-known. You were the outsider in the line, but no one dared look away. Tonowari stepped forward.
“The first day, The Trial of the Deep Silence.”
“Only those unafraid of the unknown can lead others through it.”
He began to pace slowly in front of the warriors, voice rising like the tide.
“At dawn, you will be taken far beyond our reef, into the stretch of ocean we call The Drowned Grave. A cursed trench, where currents pull like living hands, and predators lurk in the sand. No direction will be given. No aid. No weapons.”
“A sacred totem lies somewhere below, buried beneath the bones of warriors lost. You must find it and return with it before sunset.”
Ronal steps forward cold and calm, but she did not pace like Tonowari. Ronal had a different type of powerful energy surrounding her. “The totem is crystal red, like the shade of blood. It had a sharp point; you will know it when you find it. If you do you retrieve the totem for whatever reason that may be. You may return to the clan before sunset, or you will be disqualified.
There were quiet gasps in the crowd. Even Aonung’s jaw tightened. Kiri leaned slightly forward, eyes flicking toward Neteyam who hadn’t moved. His arms were crossed tight over his chest, his jaw set.
Lo’ak muttered from beside Kiri, “they are going easy on them huh?”
Tonowari continued. “The second day. The Trial of the Broken Crest.”
“Only those who carry pain and rise again may protect others.”
“You will begin beneath the Crimson Cliffs. You may bring a single spear, nothing more. The coral is sharp enough to tear skin. You must climb it, bleeding or not, while waves crash against you. And once you reach the top…”
He paused, eyes scanning the line of warriors.
“You will leap onto the Roc-Stone Beast.” The crowd stirred, several people gasped outright. Even the Metkayina warriors beside you stiffened. Tonowari’s voice dropped a note deeper.
“This creature does not obey. It is massive, territorial, and stronger than any tulkun. You must stay on it; make it carry you across the canyon waters. It will thrash. It will try to drown you. But if you survive… a warrior waits on the other side. He will mark your passage with fire.”
Tsireya clutched Aonung’s arm with wide eyes. Neteyam had gone quiet again, lips pressed thin. You couldn’t see the flicker of guilt in Jake’s expression, he knew what this meant. Kiri was whispering something soft to herself to Eywa.
Even the wind seemed to hesitate as Tonowari stepped forward again, his tall form shadowed by the moonlit glow of the reef. The ceremonial platform gleamed beneath him, coral light flickering like fire, casting halos around the warriors standing in line. He let the silence stretch.
No one moved. Not the clan. Not the Sullys. Even the sea creatures seemed to know what was coming. Tonowari’s voice dropped low, like it wasn’t meant to carry far, only deep.
“The third and final day,” he said, eyes sweeping over the gathered warriors, “will take you where breath cannot follow. To where fear is made flesh.” A ripple went through the crowd, soft but unmistakable.
“This is The Trial of the Spirit Veil.”
You felt something cold settle in your spine.
“Before the sun rises, you will be taken to the edge of the ancient reef. There, deep below, is a cavern hidden by glowing roots, a place that only opens once a year, when the sea lets it breathe.” Ronal stepped forward, her voice sharpened.
“It is alive. It shifts. It closes. No weapon, no light, no mask will help you. You will swim alone through different collapsing tunnels, breath held, blood quiet, guided only by the flicker of spirits.”
The other warriors were no longer stone-faced. One swallowed hard. Another shifted his feet. But Tonowari’s next words made the silence snap like a bone.
“At its heart waits a creature called Z’ul’koa.” (The Last Breath)
The name seemed to echo.
You didn’t recognize it, but everyone else did. It was written on their faces.
Aonung blinked like he’d just heard a ghost story he didn’t believe was real.
Kiri’s lips parted, a whisper of awe and dread.
Tsireya pressed a trembling hand to her chest.
Lo’ak muttered something that sounded very much like, “What the actual hell.”
Tonowari went on, voice harder now.
“Z’ul’koa is no spirit. It is no vision. It is a beast. Older than any song. Larger than any ilu. Born before our people and never tamed. It does not test you. It does not judge. It guards what is not meant to be taken.” He paused.
“Its skin is stone. Its fangs—poison. Its eyes… see into your soul. It senses panic. Smells fear. If you flinch, it will drown you. If you strike to kill, it will crush you. If you run, it will follow you until your lungs are empty.”
Then, softer, darker. “To pass, you must fight it. Not to destroy. But to endure. You must take from it what it guards: a glowing scale, embedded in its chest. And you must live long enough to return with it in your hands.”
He turned, slowly, back to the line of warriors. “Only three have done so. Not because they were chosen. Not because Eywa smiled on them. But because they refused to die.”
No one spoke. No one even moved. He looked straight at you. The reef was suddenly silent and the waves seemed to have retreated.
But behind you, Neteyam moved His hand found your arm first. Then your waist. Then both arms wrapped around you from behind like a lifeline, pulling you into his chest so hard you could feel the tremble in him. Not his body, his breath. His restraint.
You could hear it, that breath he tried to steady against your shoulder. He wasn’t hiding it anymore. He wasn’t calm. He wasn’t composed. He was terrified.
“You don’t have to do this,” he whispered, voice rough and cracked just at the edges. His forehead pressed into the side of your head, and his fingers curled tightly against your hips. “You’ve already proven everything. To me. To all of them. You could walk away right now, and I would still be proud. We can go back, back to the cabin and stay there.”
You didn’t speak. You couldn’t. Not with the way he was holding you. Not with how fiercely he didn’t want to let go. You rest your hand on his and hold his arms that were on you, trying to comfort him even if it was for a split second.
But he breathed again. Shaky. Quiet. His arms didn’t loosen. He nuzzled into your temple and took a deep breath, then another, and another. He was having a very hard time keeping it together. You didn’t even realize when Tonowari dismissed the warriors since all of them still stood next to you, I’m bracing their families. You tugged his hand softly, “come,” you whisper softly. But he heard it.
Neteyam didn’t even hesitate. The moment you turned away from the crowd, he was already following, his grip firm like he was afraid to lose you if he let go. The others let you go, no one tried to stop you, because the weight of what had just been announced still hung heavy in the air. And everyone knew what he needed now wasn’t words. It was you.
The moon cast a soft blue glow on the empty beach, waves hissing against the shore like the breath of something alive and watching. You tugged Neteyam by the hand, weaving away from the crowd and the firelight, past the low hum of whispered prayers and worried glances. His hand was clammy in yours, fingers twitching every few steps. You didn’t let go.
Once the sea stretched wide and empty before you, and the voices were far behind, you stopped. The wind tugged lightly at your braids. The ocean waited. And so did he. But not for long.
Neteyam took two steps back, like he couldn’t stand still anymore, and then he broke. “I can’t do this.” The words were ripped out of him, raw and sharp. “I can’t just stand there while they send you off to— to that. Like it’s some kind of test. Like you’re supposed to come back whole from—that.”
His hands were clenched in fists now, shoulders heaving, like he was trying to trap the grief in his body, but it was too big.
“You heard them,” he said, stepping forward, eyes wide and wild and glassy. “The Drowned Grave. The venom in the water. The cliffs. The roc-stone beast that drowns people for fun. And Z’ul’koa—Eywa, that thing isn’t even a creature. It’s a curse. It only opens the cave once a year. You have to fight it, bare-handed, and not die. That’s the goal. ‘Don’t die.’”
His voice cracked. He turned away from you sharply, one hand lifting to the back of his neck as he tried to breathe through it, tried to hold it in.
“I watched you walk to that line tonight like you were already one of them. Painted, braided, glowing like starlight, like you belonged in that trial. And all I could think about was how beautiful you looked and how I can not lose you.” His shoulders jerked again.
“I can’t lose you,” he whispered. And then he finally turned back to face you, and his face was broken open. His chest hitched. His jaw trembled. And this time, he did cry.
“I can’t,” he choked, stepping forward, and you barely had time to open your arms before he crashed into them, clinging to you like a drowning man.
He sobbed once, hard and quiet against your shoulder, and his knees buckled, like the weight of it all had finally crushed him and we both fell to the floor. His fingers curled tightly into your back, nails almost digging in.
“I don’t care how strong you are,” he whispered against your skin. “I don’t care how much faith I have in you. I just… I just want to keep you. I want to keep you safe, and I can’t. I can’t follow you where you’re going.”
You held his head against your neck, your own eyes stinging now, but you didn’t let yourself break. Not yet. Not while he needed you to be the stronger one.
“I know,” you whispered. “I know, Neteyam. But I’m coming back. I swear to you, I’m coming back.”
“You can’t promise that” he said again, shaking his head. “You can’t.”
“I can promise I’ll survive for you,” you said. “I’ll fight every second to come back to you. That’s all I need you to believe.” He pulled back slightly, cupping your face in both hands now, forehead pressed to yours, his tears slipping silently down his cheeks as he looked at you like you were already fading.
“I love you,” he whispered. “I should’ve said it more often.”
“You will,” you said, cutting him off. “You will get to say it again. Every night. For the rest of our lives. All I need you to do is trust me. I will come back every night and you’ll be waiting for me on the shore I know you will be.”
He kissed you then. Not with heat. Not with lust. Just a deep, desperate need to feel you alive and warm and here. His lips trembled. His hands did too. When he pulled away, his voice was smaller, hoarse.
“Just… come back to me.” You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I will.”
And you stood there a while longer, in the arms of the boy who would’ve traded the world to take your place, while the sea whispered your fate just a few hours away. “I guess you don’t want the one on one now?”
It was gentle. Light. The kind of joke only someone who loved him could make in a moment like this. Neteyam gave a broken, wet laugh against your neck. “Skxawng,” he murmured, breath shaky. He pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes rimmed red and wide with fear and adoration. “Don’t do that. Don’t make me laugh when I’m trying to fall apart.”
“You already fell apart,” you whispered with a soft smile, brushing your thumb along his cheekbone. “I just picked up the pieces.” He huffed another breath, still half-laughing, half-crying, pressing his forehead to yours. “I do still want that one-on-one. But only if you come back to me in one piece.” You leaned your forehead against his and whispered, “That’s the plan.”
The morning of the first trial came quicker than you expected. The family was up early as they normally are, Neytiri made breakfast before you had gotten ready. No more ceremonial beads or jewelry, now you were dressed in clothes for movement. You step out from behind the divider after securing the last knot. Jake and Neytiri sat side by side close to the entrance. Lo’ak sat in his hammock next to Tuk and Kiri stood by the divider in case you needed help. Neteyam had sat down since you woke up, his eyes were bloodshot but he wasn’t crying. Quietly I held his hand as we walked outside and everyone moved in step, forming a protective circle around us.
Tsireya and Aonung were already at the ship with their parents, but when they say is coming, they broke off and came to greet up. You smiled politely as they came by, Neteyam still hadn’t let go of your hand. After about a minute of small talk Tonowari announced the ship will be leaving soon and Neteyam immediately tightened his hold on your hands.
“Be careful, we will be waiting for your return. Remember the sea is a way of life, treat it as such, and it will give back in return.” Tsireya said as she gave you a small hug.
Aonung didn’t make an effort to move but he spoke, “don’t second guess yourself, you are more capable than you think.” You nodded at his respectfully and said thank you.
Lo’ak pushed your shoulder softly, “don’t forget what I taught you, be stealthy, don’t slash around it attracts stuff you don’t want to find you.” You laugh softly but nodded giving his hand a squeeze.
“We are counting on you to come back. Show them you are strong.” Kiri gave you a small squeeze in her arms.
“You’re coming back later we have to finish the game!” Tuk cheerfully said and you laughed nodding that you were coming back.
“May Ewya be with you child,” Neytiri hummed in her maternal voice. She hadn’t said it outright but you knew she felt something for you, acceptance.
Jake patted your shoulder and smirked, “give ‘em hell kid.” He smiled, “and stay vigilant.” You nodded and thanked him. Then came Neteyam’s turn.
Neteyam was quiet, head down, unsocial, “kalin it’s time for me to go” his hand squeezed mine as you spoke softly. “I know, I just—” a tear slipped from his eyes as his voice trembled.
“Just come back to me.” He whispered and gave you a tight hug, “I promise sweet boy” you kiss his neck softly before you pull away and kiss him. He tried to pull he back as you pulled away hearing the final call for the warriors, but you couldn’t. “I will see you at sunset.” You hold his face and plant another kiss on him before you let go and walk to the ship. You didn’t look back at them and neteyam was now standing between his parents, you felt like if you saw him you wouldn’t be able to leave but you had too.
The ship had vanished past the curve of the reef, carrying you toward the Drowned Grave and the first of the trials. Neteyam stood frozen on the sand, eyes locked on the horizon long after the vessel had disappeared. His breath came in shallow pulls, chest barely rising. He didn’t speak. Didn’t blink. And then, like something inside him gave out and his legs faltered.
But Neytiri was already moving. She caught him before his knees hit the sand, her arms strong around his shoulders as he crumpled into her. Like she had known this would happen — had been waiting for it. She sank with him, pulling him into her lap, cradling him like when he was her little boy again and needed her more than breath. He didn’t hold back anymore.
A sob burst out of him, raw and jagged, and he buried his face in her shoulder as his body shook with the force of it. Neytiri held him tightly, her hand curled protectively at the back of his head, whispering in Na’vi through the grief.
Jake moved in, silent for a moment, then crouched beside them. He placed one steady hand on Neteyam’s back, his voice gravel low. “You love her the way I love your mother,” he said. “And that love? That’s the kind of thing that brings people home.”
“I shouldn’t have let this happen,” Neteyam gasped, “I should’ve have let them make her do this she—she didn’t need to—”
“You gave her your heart,” Neytiri whispered, rocking him slowly. “Now let her carry it.”
Kiri knelt across from him, her eyes wet. She pressed her forehead to his, quiet and sure. “She knows what she means to you. She feels it in every breath she takes. But if you fall apart now, how can she hold herself together out there?” Her fingers brushed his cheek gently. “Let her strength come from you.”
Tsireya hovered nearby but didn’t hesitate. She reached out, placing her hand softly on Neteyam’s trembling arm. “She’s not going to give up. Not when you’re waiting for her. She’ll survive this. Because she’s fighting for you.”
Neteyam tried to speak but failed and only nodded, his throat closed tight around another cry. The waves filled the silence, crashing softly against the shore like they mourned with him.
Tuk approached quietly, small hand reaching for his. She didn’t say anything. Just wrapped her fingers around his much larger ones and held on tightly, her touch innocent, grounding. His breath hitched again.
Lo’ak stood nearby, arms crossed tight, his jaw working. “She’s… she’s coming back,” he muttered. Not looking at anyone. “She’s not like anyone else.” It sounded more like a promise to himself than to Neteyam.
Aonung, unusually quiet, stepped closer. He hesitated, then laid a firm hand on Neteyam’s back. “She’s got the bite of a wave beast,” he said gruffly. “She’ll rip through whatever they throw at her.”
The boat lurches to a stop. The quiet rush of waves gives way to the deep, rolling hush of open ocean. No one speaks. No words are needed. This is the place. Before you lie The Drowned Grave, a cursed stretch of reef where ancient coral towers twist like petrified serpents, and the ocean floor vanishes beneath layers of shattered stone, bone, and debris. No maps. No markers. No guidance. The only thing you know is that somewhere beneath it all lies a lost red totem, and only those who return with it before sundown are worthy. At least in the first day of the trials
You stand with the other warriors on the deck. All of you stripped of anything ceremonial wearing only thin, easy garments for speed and movement. The sky is heavy with cloud. The wind tastes of salt and metal. And one by one, you dive. The water swallows you whole.
You sink fast, surrounded by a maze of coral and wreckage, bones tangled in seaweed, driftwood wedged in impossible places. The temperature drops the deeper you go. Visibility shrinks. The silence is absolute.
Around you, the other warriors split off, some veering to the east ridge, others toward the trench line. You push west, toward a canyon of dead reef marked by jagged spires and purple fan corals that wave like warning flags.
You break the surface and descend into darkness and color. It’s cold. Not freezing, but enough to shock your lungs. The first thing you notice is how dark it is—like the world forgot the sun above ever existed. But then the glow begins. Not from the sky, but from below.
All around you, the ancient reef is alive with bioluminescence. Veins of soft green and purple run through coral like breath pulsing in stone. Tiny specks of blue and silver drift through the water like falling stars. As you swim deeper, massive bone structures and rotted shipwrecks begin to appear, each glowing faintly where the reef has claimed them.
Coral spires rise like the ribs of some long-dead leviathan. Barnacle-covered statues rest half-buried in silt. Schools of silverback fish dart between hollowed eyes of stone warriors, while thick kelp walls sway in slow rhythm, parting only when pushed. Everywhere you look, there’s something ancient, broken, watching.
You spread out without a word. Each warrior takes a path through the underwater maze, weaving past the glowing bones and rusted wrecks. The reef shifts. At first, it’s subtle, a slow creak, a vibration in the stone. But then the seabed moves like it’s breathing. Entire walls of coral slouch sideways. Tunnels you just passed now lead nowhere. What was once a clear path becoming a sealed tomb. The graveyard is alive. Shifting. Rearranging.
You push forward, lungs beginning to tighten. Twice, you’re forced to double back and swim toward the surface, breaking through with gasping breath before diving again. You find small air pockets in shipwreck hollows—just enough for a few precious seconds before diving again. You keep the image of the totem in your head: a red crystal, sharp like a fang.
You search for what feels like hours. Indeed, hours had pasted. Eclipses had come and gone now in the second half of the day. You felt like every time you made some progress the reef shifts and you’d have to start over.
Then, while sliding your hand along a broken arch, a shard of coral slices your palm. The pain is sharp, fast. You jerk back and watch a thin stream of blood bloom like ink in the water. It floats upward. You freeze. Suddenly, everything goes still. You feel it before you see it, a pressure change, like the ocean holds its breath.
Small glowing fish vanish into the reef. A long white eel buries itself in the sand. The Murk Shrimp you passed earlier retracts into a bone crevice, its shell rattling like dry leaves. Then, from beneath a ridge of bone, something moves. At first, it’s just a blur. Then you see the full shape emerge.
A Reef Maw.
Its body is massive, twenty feet at least, with thick, armor-plated scales that shimmer dully under the bioluminescence. Its long, jagged fins slice the water as it glides silently. Its face is long and narrow, with a mouth that opens vertically into a horrific spiral of teeth. And its eyes—cloudy and dead, somehow still find you. You don’t breathe. You don’t move. The blood. It turns. It charges.
You twist around and push off a column, kicking hard. The creature lunges past you, snapping its maw where you’d just been. You dodge through a sunken shrine, ducking beneath the collapsed roof as the Reef Maw crashes behind you. A long fin slams into your back, and you tumble, scraping your leg against coral.
You swim fast, pain biting at your muscles. There, a narrow crevice. You slip inside as the Maw slams into the reef behind you, too large to follow. It snarls deep, gurgling and spins off, circling. You stay inside, panting against the narrow stone, chest heaving. Blood from your hand still trails behind you. It’s not much, but enough to haunt you here.
You dive deeper into the moving grave, the glow of the reef painting your path. Just as the reef shifts again beneath your hands, you spot it. A red crystal, wedged beneath a skeletal hand resting on a broken altar, glowing faintly in the shifting light. You hesitate. You glance back. The Reef Maw is out there. And this place is still moving. But you’re close.
‘Fuck it’ you dart your eyes around before pulling yourself forward as fast you can on corals and weeds, even bones hanging around the area. You reach toward the totem, fingers brushing its sharp, red tip where it juts from beneath a coral-entombed skeleton.
But the water goes vibrates even silent. The silence deepens like it’s closing in around you. A shadow falls across the glowing altar. Your chest tightens. You don’t have to look, you already know. You twist your body just in time to see the Reef Maw coming around the corner, its jagged fins cutting through the water like blades, its mouth already beginning to open in that terrifying spiral. It doesn’t roar. It doesn’t scream. It moves like death, silent, focused, and endless.
You jolt backward, hand slipping off the totem. You kick hard, pushing off the skeleton’s ribcage and darting into the reef again. The Maw slams into the altar behind you, pulverizing the stone in a cloud of bone dust and coral shards. The totem was gone. Buried now.
You weave through collapsing tunnels of glowing bones and swaying kelp, every second a blind dash to not get cornered. The graveyard begins to shift again—the reef groans like something waking up beneath your feet. Whole sections rotate, a corridor you just swam through twists, becomes a wall. You double back. The Maw follows, tireless.
Your lungs begin to burn. You spot a break in the ceiling, a shaft of faint light above. You swim straight up—arms straining, chest about to burst and explode out of the water with a sharp gasp. You float there, panting, blinking hard against the sudden daylight.
But something’s wrong. The sun. It’s moved. Your heart drops. You stare at the sky, throat going dry. The sun is past its highest point, shadows stretching long over the sea. You’d been down there longer than you realized. You only have a few hours left. And you have nothing to show for it.
You feel it now: the pressure. The clock ticking loud in your chest. But you can’t give in. You dive again, water rushing past your ears. The reef is even darker now, lit only by the eerie veins of bioluminescence and the red haze of your own urgency. You retrace your path, no sign of the totem. Just dust. Bones. Rubble. You dig with bare hands, coral scraping your knuckles. You shove aside a collapsed skull. Nothing. Time is slipping like water through your fingers.
You push deeper; into a crevice you hadn’t searched before. The Reef Maw could still be down here, waiting. Every shadow twitches. Every sound makes your heart spike. Then, there it is. Half-buried beneath an overturned spear. The totem. Glowing red motherfucking crystal. Tip sharp as a dagger. You don’t hesitate.
You lunge, snatching it from the stone. A burst of adrenaline rips through you as you grip it tight. But you’re not safe yet. You twist around and launch yourself toward the surface, kicking harder than you ever have. You zigzag through glowing arches, pushing off twisted bones. Your legs ache. Your lungs scream.
Then, light. You burst from the water again with a triumphant gasp, the totem clutched tight in your fist. But you’re far from shore. Alone. And you have no mount. You tread water, heart hammering, salt stinging your cuts. Swimming as far as you could as fast as you could without dropping the totem, you felt like the ocean was just not on your side, not even a rock you could rest on for a minute in sight. Not to mention the sun was setting quicker than you thought it would.
And then, a shape glides beneath you. Sleek. Familiar. An ilu. It circles once, then draws close. Curious, intelligent eyes meet yours. You reach for it. It lets you. Your queue wraps around the tendrils behind its skull, the tsaheylu snapping into place with a jolt of shared breath. Your pulse slows. You’re not alone now. You hold the totem in one hand and grip the ilu’s fin with the other. Time to go home.
Neytiri had gotten neteyam to sleep for most of the day after his breakdown in the early morning, her poor baby was exhausted and worried. All day the Sullys and Tsireya and Aonung stayed around him, even as he slept they made sure he was okay. Lucky for them and for him, he had slept through most of the day and woke up a couple hours before sunset.
Now here he was, in the sand, pacing again. Lo’ak, Tsireya and Kiri had been constantly shutting down his ‘what ifs’ telling him that you were going to come back. That you were apart of him and you would do anything in your power to return to him. And that was the true. Even his mother stepped forward and hugged him gently, “she will return ma itan.”
A voice rang out over the beach: “There! Something’s coming!” Dozens of heads whipped toward the reef, eyes squinting against the glare. A shape was moving through the glowing water, slow and distant, just now emerging past the coral line. A figure, barely more than a silhouette, cutting through the sea. Silence fell. The entire clan froze.
The sun had nearly vanished beyond the horizon, casting long shadows across the water, painting everything in deep golds and violet blues. The faint pulses of bioluminescent life sparked beneath each ripple, but still, no one could see clearly who it was.
Neteyam’s voice broke through the tension, hoarse and raw. “Please…” he whispered, to Eywa or fate or no one at all. “Please let it be her.” When your face broke the last wave, his heart nearly stopped. You were soaked, your hair a tangled mess of braids, chest heaving with exhaustion, but it was you. And you were alive.
Neteyam didn’t think, he didn’t wait, he sprinted as fast as he could to get to you. He didn’t even pay attention to his siblings behind him running after him as well. Jake, not forcefully, but softly caught Neteyam and stopped him when you walk up standing in front of Ronal and Tonowari. You hand raised and open showing the the totem securely held, after centuries of searching, they have gotten back the secret totem.
Ronal was stunned, mouth opened in shock as she saw what you held. And Tonowari was impressed, surprised. He wasn’t expecting a winner in this first round, he took the totem from your hand and spoke. “The totem has been found. She had returned from the Drowned Grave. I present the winner of the first round.” Tonowari’s voice boomed over the clan. Gasps turned into cheers as they celebrated around you for what you have brought back.
Neteyam passed his father and picked you up in his arms tightly as if you weighed nothing, spinning you in a circle thanking the great mother from bringing you back to him unharmed and safe. Everyone wanted to know what happened in full detailed so over dinner you told them the whole story. Neteyam wasn’t too pleased you almost died a couple times and he helped you wrap the wound but he was overall happy you were back. Sleep found you easily as you knew you’d have the rise again the next day for the next challenge.
The next morning you gotten up early just like the day before and ate breakfast, gotten dressed and said goodbye to the family. Again, they walked you too the ship boarding and said their good lucks and to be careful. Neteyam still a sweetheart, again didn’t want you to go but he was more composed this time, so you coddled him, told him how sweet he was being and how much you loved him, giving him a sweet kiss with promises of return from your new trial. Of course he was scared but he knew you had to do this, he knew you could.
The moment your feet left the boat and slipped into the sea; the tone of this trial struck you like a cold slap. The water was nothing like the first day.
Where the graveyard had been eerily quiet, secretive in its depth, here the sea was alive, angry, almost. The currents yanked at your legs like ropes tied to something deep and furious below, dragging and twisting your body in all directions. Every movement was a fight to stay upright and on course, your limbs working against the water like trying to wade through a violent storm.
Waves crashed around you, tall, muscular walls of sea rising up like buildings ready to collapse. Each swell surged like a freight train, heavy and loud, slamming into your chest and shoulders with the force of something trying to push you back, to break your balance. Mist flew off the peaks, stinging your face, soaking your hair and burning your eyes with salt. Every breath had to be timed or choked on. Not to mention it made threading water much more difficult since you were hundreds of feet above the ocean floor.
The cliff. Not a slope, not a hill, but jagged, nearly vertical wall of reef-forged stone and razor-backed coral that rose endlessly from the water, like the ocean had tried to spit it out but it refused to fall.
It was red in places, not from color, but from blood coral, dead and hardened, like it had bled from ancient wounds. Other parts were dark and blistered from old ceremonial burns, the rock twisted and angry-looking. Algae clung to the base in long, green ropes, more like tendrils than moss. It looked slick and dangerous, like it would peel off the skin of your fingers for daring to grab it.
Above that, the real punishment began. The cliff face was shredded, uneven, brutal, and narrow. Coral spines jutted out like knives. Broken ledges offered just enough room for a foot or handhold before biting back. There were spots where others had already slipped, faded handprints in blood smeared across the stone in a trail that vanished higher up.
Even the air here turned hostile. Wind screamed down from the ridge, cutting through your wet clothes, tugging at your balance before you even climbed. It wasn’t a climb. It was a punishment, and the cliff wore its name like a threat: The Broken Crest.
The cliff loomed high above you, not just tall but mean. A serrated wall of pale coral limestone, slick with spray and worn sharp by decades of crashing sea and sun. It rose like a jagged spine out of the churning ocean, its surface pitted with small pockets and knifelike ridges, offering just enough for fingers to cling to, but always at a price. You weren’t alone.
Four warriors hit the cliff together; all tossed toward it by the surge of waves from the boat that had already vanished into the horizon. No words were spoken between you, just glances, gritted jaws, and the hard gasps of breath as each of you began your ascent. It was a scramble at first, everyone trying to claim space, find a path, avoid being shoved off or boxed in by another climber. The rock didn’t care. It punished everyone equally.
Your fingertips burned as they found rough holds — coral spines digging under nails, stone edges slicing into flesh. You hauled yourself up, pressed close against the cliff as a sudden gust nearly peeled you from it. Your shoulder brushed another warrior’s arm — he grunted, blood dripping from his jaw as he pulled himself up and away, refusing to give you even a second’s glance. The higher you climbed, the worse it got.
Salt wind screamed against the cliff, blasting from the side like it wanted to rip the flesh from your bones. The waves below had softened, but the memory of their force stayed in your muscles, still trembling from the effort it took just to reach the base.
Another warrior above you slipped. Her foot kicked out, spraying loose stone — she caught herself, barely, her knuckles white on the edge of a pocketed ledge. You flinched as debris sliced across your cheek, then kept climbing. You couldn’t afford to stop.
The reef rock changed texture as you went. Smoother in places, deceptively so. Your hand slipped once, caught nothing but wet algae-slicked stone, and for a sickening second your body hung in the air. Then your fingers slammed down on another hold, and you dragged yourself up before gravity had a chance to think. Above, the wind was howling through an open crest, not singing, but screaming, a raw and feral sound. That’s where you were headed. You reached the burn shelf next.
A wide swath of blackened coral, fire-scarred from past rituals, cracked and brittle from heat and wind erosion. It flaked under your palms, gave too easily under your weight. Everyone slowed here. One false grip and it could shear away, taking you with it. One warrior beside you reached for a hollowed groove, and it crumbled. He slid down two full lengths before slamming against a sharper outcrop, groaning in pain. You didn’t check if he kept going. You were bleeding now. Elbows, knees, palms. The climb asked for everything and gave nothing in return.
Your breath burned in your chest. Your arms trembled. You could hear the others, some above, some below. One was grunting with every move. Another was absolutely silent, too silent. You didn’t know who was leading anymore. You just knew you weren’t giving up. The final stretch was a vertical gauntlet.
The cliff narrowed into a jagged ridge, forcing you to climb almost straight up, hands and feet pressed to raw coral barely wide enough to balance on. The sun beat against the stone, blistering hot, making the blood on your arms tacky as it dried and pulled your skin. You couldn’t look down. There was no down. The moment your fingers reached the top ridge; your arm gave a tremor you didn’t expect. But you pulled, hard, kicked with both feet, and lunged over the crest like breaking the surface. You collapsed onto the hot rock, chest rising and falling, surrounded by other warriors, some already there, others still clawing their way up. No one spoke. No one had to. The climb was done. But you all knew it wasn’t over.
You pass beneath the first low-hanging branch, and the forest seems to shift around you, like something waiting, holding its breath. The deeper you go, the more unnatural it feels. The trees here are swollen and gnarled, warped by the salt and sea, their roots thick with coral crust and sharp shells. The canopy above closes tight, sealing the forest in a heavy, humid gloom. Strange spores float in the air, faintly glowing, drifting in the stillness like dust caught in water. It smells of decay and seawater. Old blood.
You step carefully, your ears tuned for movement, but it’s not just quiet. It’s dead. No birds. No insects. Only your breath and the soft crunch of coral beneath your feet. You’re alone. The other warriors have disappeared into different corners of the forest behind you, silhouettes swallowed by mist and shadow. You haven’t seen one in ages. The light fades. The ground slopes downward, soft and wet with moss and broken bone, half-digested carcasses littered here and there, some stripped to white, others still bearing shredded sinew.
And then the ground beneath you shifts. Just slightly, like something massive rolled beneath the surface. You freeze, heartbeat pounding in your ears. A low sound slithers through the trees. A guttural hiss, deep and wet, the kind of noise that doesn’t belong to anything natural. Something ancient. You crouch low, eyes scanning. And slowly, impossibly slow, it moves into view.
Massive. Covered in jagged, barnacle-studded armor and coral plating like it’s risen from the reef itself. Six limbs, four for crawling, two tucked close to its sides, ready to strike. Its hide is mottled gray-blue, slick and wet like kelp-drenched stone. Muscles ripple beneath its plating with every step. Its head turns toward you, long, narrow, and wrong, with no visible eyes at first. Just ridges and slits, until something glows. A faint bioluminescent shimmer from beneath the coral crown at its brow. Then it sniffs. The sound is wet. Curious. You don’t move.
Its jaw splits slightly, not to roar, but to taste the air, letting out a breath that reeks of salt, rot, and ancient sea-death. And then, it slips back into the trees again without a sound. Gone. Circling. Stalking. You can’t see it anymore, but it sees you.
It had been nearly two hours of silent tracking, two hours of weaving through the thick, bone-laced underbrush, your breath shallow, your nerves strung tight as wire. The forest had become a maze, overgrown with twisted roots and tide-slick stone. Every sound seemed to echo too far, or not at all. But you kept going. You remembered what Lo’ak had taught you in the months of sparring and survival drills: how to read a crushed fern, a bent stalk, the ragged smear of moss torn by a dragging claw. How to feel when the forest was no longer just forest, when it was watching. You moved in slow, deliberate steps, trailing behind the faint signs: a broken tree limb smeared with salt-damp mucus, deep claw marks gouged into a coral-crusted trunk, a warm patch of ground still damp with body heat. It was close again.
Then—movement. A massive coral frond snapped, not ten feet ahead. You ducked behind a tangle of roots, steadying your breath. Through the pale glow of drifting spores, you saw it step out again. That monstrous, living reef of a creature. Its six legs moved with a grace no creature of that size should have, terrifying, silent, hungry. This time, you didn’t freeze. You circled it low and wide, watching for a pattern. The beast had a perimeter, a territory. But now… now it was near the cliff’s edge. Your heart pounded. This was your only shot.
You broke cover and let out a short, sharp whistle through your teeth, just loud enough to get its attention. Its head snapped in your direction, glowing crests along its jaw flickering. It charged, stone-splitting limbs slamming into the ground as it closed the distance like a living avalanche. You didn’t run. You moved. Darting back toward the cliff’s edge, leaping over stone and bone and sea-warped roots, letting it chase you, angling just right. It didn’t hesitate. As you reached the edge, it launched itself after you with a thunderous roar, not knowing or not caring that there was no more ground beneath it.
You twisted mid-air, grabbing hold of the thick, barnacle-clad plating along its side as it soared past you. Then the two of you fell, crashing through the misty air in a storm of salt and shadow. The wind was torn from your lungs. Then—impact. The sea swallowed you both. Foam and fury erupted around you as the beast hit the surface, its massive limbs immediately churning into motion. The water was chaos, waves like rolling walls, the sea-chasm ahead a howling throat between jagged cliffs. The beast bellowed beneath you, and for a second you thought it would dive deep and leave you behind. But it didn’t.
You held tight, your body pressed to its armored back, your hands finding grip between plates slick with slime and tide-wear. It surged forward, a living battering ram against the rough canyon surf. Waves slammed into you both, one after another, slicing your skin with spray and grit, pulling at your arms, threatening to rip you loose. You stick the spears you had in the outer shell to secure yourself in the back of the creature and you held on.
Salt stung your eyes. Blood from shallow cuts on your knuckles dripped into the foam. Every second was a battle to stay astride, to keep breathing through the chaos. And ahead — finally — you saw the stone outcropping on the other side of the canyon. A lone warrior stood there, holding a charred, blackened emblem, the mark of challenge. The beast roared, responding to the presence of another, and you took your chance.
You leapt. Your feet hit slick stone, barely holding as you stumbled forward and reached out — snatching the burned symbol from the warrior’s hand just as another wave smashed the cliffside behind you. You had done it.
The warrior stood just ahead, perched beneath the sparse shadows of the coastal trees, his chest rising with steady breaths. He was older than you, tall and broad-shouldered, scarred from past trials, skin etched with faded stripes of soot and ritual ink. Their expression was unreadable, sharp eyes scanning you as the roar of the ocean swelled behind. In his hand, the scorched emblem, obsidian-black, shaped like a broken crest, still warm to the touch. You stepped forward, soaked to the bone, your grip trembling slightly as you reached for it. The warrior studied you for a moment, then extended the stone.
His voice low and gravelly. “And did not fall.” You took the emblem from his hand. It was heavier than you expected. “I almost got eaten,” you replied, breathless. A flicker of respect crossed their face. No smile, no celebration, just a short nod, like an acknowledgment between survivors. “Go,” they said, stepping aside. “Before the waves turn again.”
You didn’t know how long you’d been walking. Salt stung the cuts along your legs, throbbed in your palms where the cliff face had bit into you. The burned crest was secured across your chest, tied down with woven strips from your satchel. No ilu. No path home. Just the whisper of wind and sea and the slow, creeping fear that there would be no easy way back.
At the edge of the rock shelf, a narrow cove curled inwards, tangled with seaweed, littered with driftwood, abandoned shells, and frayed vines that had climbed in from the treeline. A small graveyard of the ocean’s forgotten offerings. It wasn’t much. But it would do. You reached for the spear strapped to your back. You wouldn’t need the whole thing. Not anymore. With a firm grip, you snapped the tip free. It cracked with effort, leaving you with a jagged blade, enough to strip bark, slice vine, carve holes. A knife born of necessity.
The raft came together slowly. Driftwood lashed together, secured with knots carved into the vine cords. Not stable. Not safe. But it would float. You shoved it into the tide with a grunt, sweat and sea spray clinging to your skin. Then you climbed on — body aching from the cliff, the search, the ride. And you began to paddle. For hours, you moved across the open sea. Each pull of the wood into water sent ripples back into the dark. The sun bled out slowly behind you, sinking into the waves like the end of a torch. The sky turned deep gold, then indigo. Then black. Still, you paddled. The wind tugged at your limbs. Muscles spasmed. Fingers cramped. But you didn’t stop. Not until, finally, you saw it, the faint, glimmering reef. Home.
You exhaled shakily and dropped onto your back, the night sky vast above you. Stars blinked into place, scattered like the stories of Eywa herself. You stared up, silent, as the water carried you forward in gentle pulses. The raft creaked. Your body trembled. But for the first time all day… you let yourself feel it.
On the reef’s edge, where the waves broke soft against the shallows, the Metkayina had gathered again. Just like the night before before, the clan had perched quietly in the sand and on the rocks, watching the ocean with wide eyes and held breath. Only five warriors had been sent to the trial. But now, it was nearing full dark, and none had yet returned. Then… a voice cried out. A boy near the edge of the shore, small and sharp-eyed. “Look!” Heads turned instantly. Shapes shifted. Tsireya gasped, clutching her brother’s arm. Aonung’s brows furrowed, squinting into the gloom. It wasn’t a swimmer or an ilu. It was…A raft. Kiri stood first, her hand rising to shield her gaze. “Is that—?”
As the raft drifted silently onto the shore, the wood scraping against sand and rock, all sound seemed to vanish from the world around you—save for the gentle lapping of waves and the rustling hush of a thousand watching breaths. You lay still; eyes turned to the dusky sky above. The last of twilight cast everything in a violet-gold hue. Your body ached down to the bone. Arms trembling knuckles raw. Salt stung the cuts that crisscrossed your arms, your thighs, your ribs. The blood had long dried, turned rust-brown and black along your skin. But from a distance to the people watching, you looked drenched in it—bathed in crimson, barely alive.
A voice cracked through the stillness. “Eywa…” Neteyam’s voice. He broke from the crowd like a dam snapping under pressure, sprinting into the shallows. Water splashed up to his knees as he dropped to them beside you. His hands hovered above your body, unsure where to touch you, terrified to cause more pain. Your lips parted to say something, anything, but all that came out was a weak, cracked breath. Neteyam’s face crumpled. His hands cupped your face so delicately, his thumbs brushed through grime and dried blood that streaked across your cheeks and chin. “You’re okay… you’re okay…” he whispered, but his voice trembled, and his eyes glossed. He bit down on his lip hard, chest heaving like he was holding in a scream. You whined softly when he moved you, and that shattered the last bit of his composure.
Still, his arms wrapped under your back and beneath your knees. He lifted you, careful, gentle—like you were made of wet paper. You whimpered quietly in his hold, your head falling against his chest, too weak to keep upright. Tsireya was just behind him now, her hand over her mouth. Her eyes glistened, wide and glassy. “Great Mother…” she breathed. Her voice cracked, and though no tears fell, the water in her eyes made them shimmer. She stepped forward to brush your hair gently behind your ear. “You look—” She swallowed. “You look like you walked through a war.”
Behind her, the rest of the Sully family stood frozen. Neytiri held Tuk tightly against her side, though the little girl had slipped one hand free and now clutched the hem of Neteyam’s loincloth as she stared up at you, wide-eyed and quiet. Jake’s jaw was clenched tight. Kiri’s hand was at her chest, lips parted like she was whispering something under her breath—prayers, maybe. Lo’ak stood beside her, mouth tight, gaze locked on you with a stunned, worried sort of stillness.
Then the crowd began to part. Tonowari and Ronal stepped forward. Neteyam instinctively turned slightly, shielding you more against his chest, but you touched his arm weakly. He paused. You reached down with fingers shaking from exhaustion and pulled the blackened coral stone from your satchel. No one had asked. But they were waiting. Tonowari extended his hand, and you placed the totem into his palm. He looked down at it, silent for a breath. Then he turned, lifted the stone high, and declared with powerful certainty:
“She has conquered the Broken Crest. Winner of the second round” The silence broke into thunder. The clan erupted. Shouts and cheers filled the air. Warriors beat their chests. Children cried out in awe. A second impossible trial completed, two in two days. And you still stood or were held. Neteyam still hadn’t let go. You looked up at him through heavy lids, and he stared down at you like he was still trying to convince himself you were real. His eyes brimmed again, the shine of almost-tears clinging stubbornly to the edges. His brow was furrowed tight as he pressed his forehead gently to yours. “I’ve got you,” he whispered, breath shaking. “I’ve got you.”
The marui was soft with candlelight and shadow, the woven walls barely rustling in the night breeze off the sea. You were tucked gently in the center of it all, surrounded, wrapped in warmth, hands, voices that all tried to ground you after everything the day had taken. Neteyam hadn’t let go of you once since he lifted you off that raft. You sat half-curled in his lap; a blanket draped around your shoulders but your blood-streaked skin still visible beneath it. Most of it had dried by now, and the real wounds, the deep scrapes and dark bruises, were being seen to. Neytiri worked in steady silence, rubbing salve into your arms and shoulders, brushing her fingers over each injury with care. Her touch was firm but motherly, like it hurt her more than you. Jake sat silently making something soft for you to eat. Kiri was at your side, gently lifting your hair to clean the wound at your temple. “You’re lucky,” she murmured, mostly to herself. “That canyon water should’ve shattered your ribs…” Lo’ak sat cross-legged near your feet, arms propped on his knees. His eyes hadn’t left you since you came in. “So… you gonna tell us how you rode a sea demon like it was a prize skimwing?” he asked, half-teasing, though his voice cracked a little at the end.
Neteyam shifted behind you, his hand cupped around your ribs like he was still protecting you from a fall. You could feel the way his breath changed when Lo’ak spoke, tense, listening. You exhaled slowly, your voice hoarse. “It wasn’t a prize. It wanted to eat me. I had to bait it into jumping off the cliff and swam across. Some of the scariest shit I’ve done in my whole life.” Tsireya let out a soft laugh through a sniffle. She’d cried when she saw you come in, your skin slick with blood, body shaking, barely standing upright. Now, she knelt beside Kiri, handing her a new cloth, her eyes still glassy. “We saw you in the distance,” she whispered. “Floating in the dark. Like a ghost.”
Neteyam’s arms tightened around you at that, as if he thought you still might disappear. His mouth brushed your hairline, and he said quietly, “I want to know everything. Start to finish.” You hesitated. But then you told them. The freezing water that slammed you into the reef like a ragdoll. The climb that felt more like a fight for your life. The clawed trees at the top that tore at your arms. The hours spent tracking the beast alone in the jungle, the way it finally turned on you, and how the only way out was down, a cliffside leap into sea foam. “The water was so rough and I kinda had to jump but land on top of that thing, it was basically a mutated dinosaur.”
They all listened in stillness. Lo’ak leaned in slowly, his expression changing from teasing to something heavier. Kiri gripped your hand. Tsireya covered her mouth with trembling fingers. Neytiri’s eyes never left your face, her hands working slower, more tenderly now. And Neteyam… he was silent, jaw clenched, his hand pressed flat over your sternum, feeling each breath as if it were proof, you were still alive. You finished, voice faint. “Then I broke the spear tip and paddled home. Took a few hours. Didn’t think I’d make it before night.”
There was silence for a beat, and then Lo’ak whispered, “Bro… she’s nuts.” A half-laugh slipped from you, weak but real. “That’s your takeaway?” He grinned through a tight throat. “Hell yeah, it is.” Neteyam finally leaned forward, gently guiding a cup to your lips. “Drink. Please,” he murmured, voice thick. You obeyed, swallowing the warm tea, your eyes on the entire time. When you were done, he set the cup down and cradled your face in both hands. Sleep found you easily that night, you had one more day to get through then you’d be able to rest peacefully with Neteyam, and you wanted nothing more than to build a life with him.
The next morning you rose early, the sun was a few minutes from starting to rise, the world was quiet, but everyone was awake, Tuk and Kiri helped lay out something for you to change into while Jake and Neytiri cooked and Lo’ak sharpened your knife. Neteyam sat quietly close to the door his body trembling from the day that awaits you.
The ache in your limbs was deep, bone-sunk, but you were used to that now. It was the nausea that twisted you this time, fierce and sudden, clawing at your insides the moment you sat up. The hut swayed slightly in your vision. You had to brace yourself on your palms to keep from tipping forward. Shallow breaths. You blinked hard, your brows furrowed in the dim light, hoping it would pass quickly like all the other mornings it had appeared. But it didn’t. You didn’t realize anyone was watching until you felt eyes on you.
Neteyam was already dressed, arms looped around his knees. He’d been awake long enough to see it, your slightly hunched posture, the way you pressed a fist to your stomach, the almost silent breaths you were forcing in through your nose. “What’s wrong?” he asked, standing up so fast he knocked over a bowl beside him.
The others looked up. Neytiri paused halfway through tightening her daughter Tuk’s sash. Jake furrowed his brow. Lo’ak sat straighter. Even Tsireya and Aonung, lingering just outside the hut, glanced in. You tried to wave it off, already reaching for your ceremonial wrap. “It’s nothing. Just… just nerves.” Neteyam was in front of you in seconds. “No,” he said, eyes sharp now, hands ghosting over your arms but not yet touching. “That wasn’t nerves. That looked like pain.”
“It’s fine,” you said again, but your voice was tight. You winced slightly as you straightened up and rolled your shoulders, hoping motion would make the tension fade. “It’s not,” he snapped, softer than a shout but harder than usual. “You’re pale. You can barely stand up. You shouldn’t be doing this today.”
Jake stepped in then, calm but firm. “Neteyam.” “No,” Neteyam said again, eyes still locked on yours. “You saw her.”
“I’m okay,” you said again, quieter this time. But even you weren’t convinced. Neytiri rose and approached. “We will help you get ready,” she said softly, reaching for your hair. “We will keep you grounded.” You nodded, not trusting your voice. As she tied your braids back into a tight, high ponytail, her hands were gentle, but there was tension in her touch. You could feel it. Her silence was loaded. Lo’ak hovered behind Neteyam, glancing between you and Jake. “Maybe you should talk to Tsahìk,” he suggested. “Just… make sure.”
Jake gave a single, sharp nod. “Go now. We’ve got time.” I look up from where I sat in front of neytiri and I nodded, “alright.”
“I’m going with you.” Neteyam immediately said. His words sent a shift up your spine you didn’t want, you couldn’t let him go because even if you mad every excuse for what you though the nausea you had meant, you could risk being wrong. Not in front of neteyam because you knew if he he heard those specific words he’d never let you finish the trial and it was the only way you get to stay with him.
“Baby it’s okay I’ll be ri—” you start but he cut you off quickly, “no, no I will go, come” he held your hand to walk with you and you softly stopped him, “kalin, I have a lot to prepare before I leave today, I’d appreciate if you focused you efforts there instead?” You ask softly. But neteyam wasn’t having it. He thought for a second but didn’t want to let you go alone. He was about to speak when his mother caught his attention. “Nete, come I need your help here with something for her to carry on the trial.”
His mother held up and small pouch and he looked at it. While neteyam was insisting he didn’t see the pleading look your casted to his mother, it was your silent way of saying to keep him here. Neteyam kissed your forever and nodded taking the pouch from his mother after he told you to come back quickly.
Neteyam stood rooted where you left him, eyes locked on the space you’d vanished into, jaw clenched so tight the muscle ticked. The way your shoulders had rounded forward, the way you’d winced when bending to tie the strap on your satchel, none of it sat right with him.
“She’s hiding something,” he said aloud. His voice cut through the quiet preparation inside the marui pod. Everyone looked up. Neytiri’s hands paused over the bone-woven wraps she’d packed for your trial. Lo’ak slowly lowered the weapon he’d been checking. Even Tuk turned toward him, frowning. Jake stood up straighter. “Neteyam—” but Neteyam interrupted him. “She’s in pain,” not bothering to mask the edge in his voice. “You saw her. Something’s wrong.” His mother reminded him gently. “She told you to let her go,”
“And why would she do that unless she didn’t want me to know what it is?” He started to move after you, quick steps across the marui’s floor, but Jake caught his shoulder with a firm hand. “You can’t go barging into the healing tent before her trial, boy,” Jake warned. “She doesn’t need space,” Neteyam argued, eyes storm-dark with worry. “She needs someone who gives a damn enough to see what she’s trying to hide.”
“Neteyam,” Neytiri said again, but he was already shaking his head. “I’m going.” He tried to step forward, but Jake’s grip held. Then Kiri stood, slinging her satchel over her shoulder. “I’ll go.” Tsireya stepped beside her in seconds. “So will I.”
Neteyam turned to them, eyes flickering. “Find out what’s wrong.” Kiri promised. “We will,”, already moving for the path. “Stay here.” Jake looked to Neytiri, then back at the two girls—but didn’t stop them. Neteyam didn’t watch them go. He turned his face away, fists clenched. The second they disappeared into the trees, he sank into a crouch beside the firepit, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. Tuk quietly walked over and sat beside him. She didn’t say anything. She just leaned her small frame against his arm, and after a moment, Neteyam leaned back.
Ronal was already there, bent over a stone basin filled with steaming water, her hands moving in careful, practiced rhythms. She didn’t look up at first, as though she already knew it was you. “You are not here for salve,” she said simply, voice low and steady. You paused, hand instinctively pressing against your stomach again. It wasn’t the first time you’d done that, months now, small moments where the nausea came and went, where food made your stomach turn, and exhaustion dragged at your bones even after long rest. But this morning, it had felt like the earth itself tilted beneath you.
“I didn’t know where else to go,” you said, your voice more fragile than you meant it to be. Ronal finally turned to face you, her piercing gaze sweeping over your face, your posture, the way you held your arm to your side slightly, as if to protect your core. “You should have come sooner,” she murmured, stepping forward. “You have known. In your body, in your blood. Women always do.” You swallowed hard, feeling your mouth go dry. “I couldn’t afford to be wrong.”
Ronal gestured for you to sit on the woven mat. You lowered yourself slowly, trying not to show how your ribs ached from the day before. She knelt beside you, her expression unreadable but not unkind. Her fingers were cool as they gently pressed against your abdomen, her touch firm and knowing. For a few moments, the tent was silent but for the bubbling of the steam bowl and the faint trickle of water from a nearby gourd. Then Ronal let out a soft breath, deep and final.
“There is life inside you,” she said. You stared at her, your lungs forgetting how to draw in air. “How far along?” You whisper. “Three completely cycles. Twelve weeks.” You took a deep breath at her words, that would have had to happen the first time you and Neteyam ever had sex. You register the hushed mumbling on the other side of the mauri flap. Quickly you dart up and swing the flap open, Kiri and Tsireya were startled when you suddenly catch them. “Get in here.” You whispered commandingly before looking around outside then shutting the flap behind you. “What the fuck?! What are you doing?” You whisper shout to them. Kiri played with her fingers and tsireya looked to the floor before answering, “we didn’t mean to—”
“You didn’t mean to? Do I look like an idiot?” You cut her off then Kiri spoke up, “he is just worried. He thinks your hiding something and he doesn’t like that.” You turn to look at her, “that’s the point Kiri. If Neteyam knows I’m pregnant he’s never going to let me finish the trials. And if I don’t finish the trials, I don’t get to stay here with him.” You stressed to them softly for them to try and understand where you were coming from.
Kiri’s eyes glistened, and her voice was quiet, but firm. “But he should know.” Tsireya stepped forward slightly, her gaze soft and conflicted. “You’re carrying his child… don’t you think he deserves to?” Your eyes dart between both of them, “you don’t think I’m aware? I want to tell him! I want to be an honest, loving girlfriend and make his dinner and tell him we’re gonna have a baby! But there’s a reason I haven’t.”
You turn to Ronal and look at her standing straight up, “is it possible for me to not do the last trial and stay? I won the other two with no complaints.” You ask her to consider your request to be with Neteyam without the last trial being necessary. Ronal’s eyes did not waver.
“I remind you,” she said, her voice sharp but not unkind, “Tonowari and I made our terms clear the first day you arrived. The only way you stay is if you earn your place through the trials. That agreement does not change because of poor timing… or poor family management.” Your breath caught, stung by the bluntness of her words, but not surprised. You didn’t expect mercy.
Kiri’s brows furrowed, and Tsireya’s lips parted as if to protest to her mother, but Ronal’s words continued with quiet finality. “You carry life now, yes—but that does not grant you an exception. It changes nothing.” You stood there, heart thudding, the weight of her words pressing into your ribs like stone. Ronal was unmoving, her expression as ancient as the reef, and as merciless. “If I don’t complete it…” you said softly, almost to yourself. “Then I don’t get to stay. I don’t get to build a life with the man who’s now the father of my child.” Kiri let out a shaky breath beside you, and Tsireya closed her eyes for a beat, absorbing the severity of it. “You choose this path. Now you will walk it. Fully.”
Ronal, who had remained unnervingly composed through your entire reaction, moved quietly to one of her woven satchels and retrieved a small bowl filled with crushed herbs and pale blue liquid. “Drink this,” she said simply, holding it out to you. “It will calm the nausea. For today, at least.” You eyed it for a beat, then took the bowl from her hands with a quiet, “Thank you.” The taste was bitter, earthy, with a sharp tang that made your tongue curl, but as it settled in your stomach, the tension began to loosen just slightly. She even gave you some extra in a small bottle just in case you needed it during the day. Immediately the nausea started to subside, so you were fearful.
The walk back to the Mauri was tense and quiet, the girls walked behind you, keeping up with your pace, their mind ran a mile a minute thinking about the situation you are put in. They knew the trials were not ease and they were worried for your safety since it started two days ago, but it felt like a whole different kind of worry now. Because now, you carry a child, a child that is not only yours, but Neteyam’s as well. Outside the Mauri when it was in view you stopped and turned around. “Not. A. Word.” You emphasized and they nodded.
You didn’t want to be mad at neteyam for what he did when you walked in, you knew why he would do it. Neteyam is not stupid there was no way he didn’t notice the fact that you didn’t want him to go with you to see Tsahìk. But it wasn’t something you could deal with right now. On top of the fact that you were worried and scared for your own life in this final trial, you were now also scared for your baby.
His eyes locked onto yours as you walk back into the Mauri “What did she say?” His voice was calm, but barely. His fingers curled and uncurled at his sides. You kept your expression neutral, even as your hand pressed unconsciously against your stomach. “Nothing serious,” you said lightly. “Just jitters. I’ll be fine once I start moving.” He stared at you, searching for cracks in your face, doubt flashing behind his eyes. “You’re sure?” he asked slowly. “Positive,” you replied, and then turned deliberately to Tsireya and Kiri behind you. “Right?”
Kiri blinked, caught off guard, but recovered quickly. “Yeah. She’s alright,” she said, a bit stiffly. Tsireya nodded quickly, eyes flicking to Neteyam and back to you. “Nothing to worry about. Just nerves.” Neteyam exhaled, though his shoulders didn’t fully relax. “You scared me,” he admitted, stepping forward. “You looked sick” he said softly as if he was disappointed now you have to go on this trial “I guess I needed some air,” you interrupted softly. “And to clear my head before the last trial. That’s all.” He didn’t respond right away. Just moved close enough to rest his hand gently against your arm, grounding himself. You swallowed, offered him a small smile, one that didn’t reach your eyes. And though Neteyam said nothing else, the way he looked at you said it all, He didn’t believe you.
The send-off felt heavier than the other two days combined. There was no boat or escort this time, just your ilu waiting near the shallows, the water quiet and still like it understood the weight of the day. The others had already departed, disappearing beneath the waves in separate directions, each tasked with finding the sacred cave by intuition and Eywa’s grace alone. No markers or guidance, only rumors that the cave rejected those unworthy, hidden behind rock formations along the deeper reef, with multiple narrow, winding entrances that shifted like a maze with the tide. Neteyam stood close, silently wrecked. His hand shook slightly as it gripped your wrist, like if he held you tight enough, the ocean couldn’t take you. His lips brushed your forehead, then lingered there, breathing you in. He didn’t speak, because if he did, he might beg. Jake stood with an unreadable face, Tuk clung to Neytiri’s side, and Lo’ak kept glancing away, jaw clenched. Tsireya and Kiri hovered nearby, stealing worried glances between you and Neteyam, both still holding the weight of your secret. Yet, even in their worry they exchanged good lucks and told you to come back safely. When you finally turned toward the sea, Neteyam reached for you again, but let go, barely. Just long enough to watch you slip into the water and disappear. He had no idea how hard you were going to fight to come back to him today, to be able to bring joy to his life when it’s over and you’ve won.
You had been riding for half the day, long enough for the sun to rise to its highest point and begin its slow, unrelenting crawl across the sky. The warmth on your shoulders was deceptive, a thin veil over the unease twisting deeper in your stomach. The further you pushed out into open ocean, the more the world around you shifted. The water, once a clear and welcoming blue, turned murkier, heavier. Like it carried weight. Memory. Warning. No coral reefs out here. No playful fish. Not even the distant calls of tulkun. Just endless rolling waves and the occasional scream of wind passing low over the sea’s surface. Your ilu swam slower now, more hesitant, snorting through its blowholes as if it too could sense you were trespassing. And then you saw it.
At first it looked like nothing more than a jagged set of rocks breaching the surface like broken ribs, clustered together in the middle of the ocean. But as you rode closer, the shape revealed itself, an enormous stone structure, fractured by time and weather, rising like a crumbled crown from the depths. There were multiple gaps along its base, fissures and shadowed openings like crooked mouths, but only one led downward, into the deep. The sacred, unwanted cave. It was no more than a long, uneven crack in the stone, veiled in thick curtains of seaweed that swayed like breath. The entrance narrowed like a throat. Barnacles, razor-sharp and bone white, clung to its edges. The water that spilled from within was colder, darker, like it had not been touched by light in decades. You stopped your ilu. It refused to go closer, even as you urged it forward. It knew better. So you slid off. Alone. Your heart pounded as you floated before the mouth of the Spirit Veil, this sacred, ancient place not marked by song or stone but by dread. You took one final breath and dove, vanishing into the darkness that welcomed only the brave… or the damned.
The tunnels were a labyrinth of darkness and shifting currents. You left your ilu at the mouth of the cave, tying her loosely to a jutting reef-rock, and dove in alone. The water turned cold quickly, silent and pressurized around you as you swam through the jagged maw of the entrance. The stone was slick, ancient, covered in creeping mosses and bone-pale corals that glowed faintly under the filtered sunlight from above. Hours passed in a blur of aching lungs and sharp corners. The cave was massive, larger than you’d expected, its tunnels narrowing, widening, splitting and looping in dizzying patterns. You hit dead end after dead end, sometimes squeezing through tight crevices only to find yourself trapped, forced to backtrack. Twice you surfaced in tiny air pockets that smelled of salt and sulfur, and pressed your forehead to the stone, panting quietly, letting your arms and legs stop shaking before diving again. Time lost meaning.
But then something changed. As you kicked into a tunnel that sloped downward like a throat, a shimmer of movement caught your eye. Tiny lights, flickering, floating, drifted toward you. They were the same ethereal, bioluminescent creatures you remembered Kiri teaching you about back at the reef. They way she could move with them like they were one. Eywa’s whispers in the water. They circled your fingers when you reached out. Warm. Gentle. Curious. Then they began to drift forward slowly like a beckoning path. With no other option, and your heart hammering from more than exhaustion, you followed.
Down and down, through dark chambers filled with eerie stillness. Past twisted roots and carvings so old they no longer looked like anything. And then, as the tunnel widened into an immense flooded chamber, the lights dispersed, and you saw it. Far below, rising slowly from the abyssal shadows, was a creature so ancient it looked carved from the sea floor itself.
The cavern pulsed with an eerie, otherworldly stillness. Pale light from glowing fungi clung to the jagged ceiling and walls, flickering faintly like a dying breath. The air was heavy and damp, tinged with salt and stone, as if the cave itself had been exhaling for centuries. Around you, twisted columns of limestone reached from floor to ceiling like the spines of some long-dead beast. At the center of it all was a vast, glass-still pool of water, crystalline and so clear it looked shallow at first glance. But when you stepped closer, peering down, the illusion shattered. There was no bottom. Just endless, pale blue darkness. Cold and ancient. Like the eye of Eywa herself.
You turned, looking for any sign of the other warriors. There was none. Then the surface stirred. At first, it was small, barely a ripple. Then another. And another. As if something immense was circling far below, brushing against the very bones of the earth. You held your breath, tension crawling over your skin like frost. Then a shape rose beneath the surface. You saw it before it broke the water, glowing lines of bioluminescence, shimmering faintly along an impossibly long, coiled body. It moved like liquid shadow, its size so great it felt like watching a living reef come to life. Segments of its thick hide flickered in eerie patterns, blues, purples, and sickly greens, as it undulated upward. The surface broke in a slow, soundless swell. It was monstrous.
Its body was serpentine, stretching longer than any tulkun, with armor-plated scales like interlocking slabs of stone, ridged and scarred and cracked with age. Patches of glowing coral-like tissue pulsed between the armored plates, lighting up the water around it in ghostly hues. Six long limbs curled inward against its body, each ending in clawed, fin-like appendages that scraped gently across the rock with a metallic hiss. Barnacles clung to its jaw. Sea moss hung from the horns that spiraled back along its skull. But its face— its face was a nightmare carved from the deep. Wide, flattened, with a lipless maw full of needle-thin teeth that curled inward like the mouth of a sea lamprey. Its eyes were vast, jet black, and glassy—utterly void, and yet watching you with an unmistakable intelligence. Ancient. Judgmental. As if it had seen this trial a thousand times and had drowned just as many.
It didn’t roar. It groaned. A sound like a warped conch shell blown through miles of water and bone. The cave shuddered with it. The water trembled. And your lungs tightened from the sheer vibration of the creature’s voice echoing through your chest. The creature circled slowly again, and you saw it, just beneath its throat, glowing faintly where the scales thinned and separated. A patch near its heart, where a single shimmering scale pulsed brighter than the rest. That was what you needed. But it would not give it freely. As it circled back toward you, you shifted into a defensive stance at the edge of the water, heart pounding, muscles screaming from the trials before. You would either take the scale or it would take you.
You stayed crouched at the edge of the water; eyes locked on the glowing patch near the creature’s chest—its heart. Your instincts screamed at you not to go in, but there was no choice. This was what Eywa demanded. The scale wasn’t a gift. It was a trial. And you had come this far. With a final breath, you dove in. The cold hit you like a slap, knocking the wind from your lungs, but you kicked down hard, streamlined, letting your body glide into the deep. The water muffled the cave’s sounds into a distant hum, your heartbeat a pounding drum in your ears. You saw the creature below, coiled lazily in the dark. It hadn’t moved since its call, as if waiting. Watching. Daring.
You approached slowly, hands out, careful not to look directly into its eyes. You knew better. Predators read that as challenge. The shimmering creatures—those sparkling specs of light, Eywa’s whispers—still floated around its body, brushing against you like tiny ghosts. They pulsed brighter as you neared the beast’s heart, guiding you. You were nearly within reach when the creature twitched. Without warning, it surged forward, and the water exploded around you. You twisted, just barely missing its tail as it swept sideways, knocking debris off the cave walls. The current spun you into the rocks, slamming your ribs against a jagged edge. Pain flared. You tasted blood in your mouth as you fought to stabilize.
You swam again—this time higher. It was fast, but you were agile. It snapped at you, jaws closing with a vacuum force that shook the cavern. The water shimmered with disturbed bioluminescence as you darted between its limbs, ducking beneath its slow strikes, latching onto one of the barnacle-covered ridges along its side. Then you made a choice. You let go. Let yourself drift downward, eyes closed, hands out, unarmed, surrendering completely in a way that didn’t make sense. You remembered Ronal’s words, Neytiri’s training. You remembered Eywa’s balance—nothing is taken without something being given. Your body relaxed, trusting. The creature loomed overhead, circling once more. Then it came close.
You opened your eyes as the water settled around you. The beast hovered, face inches away. Its breath churned bubbles from its nostrils, creating currents that gently swayed your hair and skin. You didn’t flinch. You placed a palm against its chest—right over that glowing scale. You thought it was about to eat you. Since you made the stupid decision to stop, but you couldn’t let it slam you into anymore rocks, your body protected more than just you now. It protected the unborn child of the man you were in love with. It didn’t attack though. It lowered its head. A heavy sound left its throat, like approval, or maybe surrender, you didn’t want to question it. Slowly, impossibly gently, the scales at its chest shifted. The glowing one loosened, like it had always been meant to be removed. Your fingers closed around it, heart shaking in your chest.
As you pulled the scale free, the light around you dimmed slightly. The creature gave a slow exhale, then dove back into the dark, disappearing into the deep without another glance. You floated in silence, holding the scale to your chest. Eywa had judged you. And you had passed.
The silence that followed the beast’s retreat was deafening, not fearful, but sacred. Reverent. The glowing scale in your hand shimmered like starlight, still warm from where it had rested against the chest of the ancient serpent. Your fingers closed around it tightly, your chest rising with each shallow breath. Pain. Sharp and burning, a reminder with every inhale. Your hand instinctively moved to your side — right where your ribs had cracked when Z’ul’koa slammed you against the jagged rock wall. The skin there throbbed and pulsed with the weight of bruised muscle and fractured bone. But you didn’t cry out or wince, because you had done it. Only two had passed this trial before. Only two had survived Eywa’s judgment. And now… you were the third.
You hadn’t begged. You hadn’t been spared. You had earned this scale through sheer endurance, through agony and unrelenting determination. This was not a gift — it was proof. You looked around the glowing heart of the cave. The water beneath you was deep and glassy, dark as night but undisturbed now, save for the occasional shimmer where bioluminescent fragments of Z’ul’koa’s trail still floated like stars across the surface. There were no warriors in sight. You were alone, entirely, beautifully alone. But not truly.
Your hand drifted to your stomach, resting gently there, and you closed your eyes for a moment. Your child. The one you would return to tell Neteyam about. The one who had unknowingly endured every ounce of suffering with you. You opened your eyes again with fire beneath your breastbone, ignoring the way the ache in your ribs flared as you moved. It didn’t matter. Nothing could stop you now. You weren’t broken, you were changed. Hardened. Empowered. You tucked the scale safely into your satchel and turned back toward the submerged tunnel system. The exit would be just as treacherous as the way in. But this time, you weren’t hesitant. You weren’t afraid. You had faced a leviathan and won. You were going home, to your family, to your mate, or soon to be and to the life blooming quietly inside you. And when you emerged again into the light, they would see who you truly were. Worthy. Unshaken. Victorious.
It took time, too much time, weaving back through the shifting tunnels with aching limbs and one arm curled protectively around your side. Every dead end you remembered on the way in you now avoided with precision, instinct carrying you forward even when the pain dulled your vision. You followed the soft current, the pulse of the ocean, until finally… you saw it. Light. A distant, wavering gleam that grew stronger with each stroke. The narrow crevice widened into the main tunnel, and your heart clenched when the dark water finally opened up to the sea.
The exit grew brighter, the water clearer, and then finally, you pushed through, breaking the surface. Night had fallen. Stars glittered above, cool and sharp, stretching wide across the sky. The surface of the sea was glassy, reflecting the pale moonlight. You took a deep breath and spun in the gentle current, chest heaving, blinking up at the night sky. You weren’t sure how long you’d been in the cave, hours, at least, but your ilu was still there. Still waiting, loyal and patient just outside the entrance. You whispered a soft thanks to Eywa, stroking its head before climbing onto its back, fingers still shaking.
The moon was high and cold above the reef, casting pale reflections across the water’s surface. The tide had shifted; the air was quieter now, heavier. But the quiet wasn’t peaceful. It was suffocating. The other warriors had returned hours ago, one by one, exhausted and wounded, each one empty-handed. None had made it to the heart of the cave. None had seen you. Not even once. Neteyam hadn’t moved from the shore. He stood in the shallows with his feet submerged, arms crossed tightly over his chest like he was trying to hold himself together. His eyes were locked on the horizon, unblinking, haunted, watching for any sign of you. He’d been doing it for hours. “She should be back by now,” he muttered under his breath.
Lo’ak exchanged a glance with Kiri and Tsireya behind him, concern etched into both their faces. Tuk sat beside their mother, her chin resting on her knees, eyes wide and uncertain. Aonung stood a few paces behind them, quieter than usual. “She’s strong, ma’itan,” Neytiri said softly, placing a hand on Neteyam’s back. “You know she is.”
“She’s never taken this long before,” he replied, shaking his head. “The others came back. And they didn’t see her. That cave system isn’t that big.”
“She probably found a different path,” Kiri offered. “That place is full of tunnels and dead ends—”
“She’s not stupid,” Neteyam snapped, spinning to face her. “She wouldn’t just get lost. She would’ve left a mark, something. You— I know she would’ve.” Jake stepped forward now, calm but serious. “We don’t know anything yet. We wait. Like we said.”
“No,” Neteyam said, shaking his head, voice trembling now. “I can’t. I can’t just wait while she might be—” He choked on the words, cutting himself off before he said it. Tears stung his eyes, but he blinked them away fast, swallowing the emotion burning in his throat. His fingers curled at his sides. “I’m going after her.” Jake stepped in front of him. “Neteyam, stop. We don’t even know which entrance she took or where it is. If you get lost too—”
“I don’t care!” he shouted, shoving past him. “I don’t care what happens to me—she’s still out there, and no one is doing anything!” Behind him, the gathered crowd of Metkayina stirred with unease. The silence among them had grown eerie, unnerving, people were beginning to murmur to one another. The kind of whispering that wrapped itself in grief before it was even earned. They thought you were gone. Neteyam’s voice cracked as he stumbled forward again, breathing hard, fists clenched like if he didn’t grip them tightly, he’d fall apart. He didn’t even hear the shout at first.
“There!” someone called from the far edge of the beach. A lookout on the rise pointed to the sea. “Look—an ilu!” Every head turned. Across the moonlit water, a shadow cut through the waves fast and low. An ilu gliding toward the reef, its rider hunched, slow-moving but upright.
You. The crowd gasped, all at once. Then came the shout of disbelief. Relief. Awe. But Neteyam was already tearing down the beach to where your ilu would swim up, heart exploding in his chest, sand flying under his feet, sprinting toward the shoreline like his life depended on it. Because it did. Because you did.
You barely made it to the shallows before Neteyam sprinted into the surf. His arms wrapped around you tight, lifting you clean off your feet and spinning you, water splashing up around you both. You winced when his grip tightened over your ribs but still melted into him as he buried his face into your neck. “I thought—I thought—” His voice cracked, and he hugged you harder. “Great Mother, I thought you weren’t coming back.” You gave him a shaky laugh, brushing your fingers through the braids he’d probably tugged on all day. “I told you I would come back baby.”
He held you for a moment longer, breathing you in, before the rest of your clan crashed onto the scene behind him — first Jake and Neytiri, then Lo’ak and Tuk, Kiri and Tsireya and Aonung trailing behind. Neytiri’s hand flew over her mouth. Jake exhaled hard, as if he’d been holding his breath for hours. Tuk gasped. “You’re back!”
“You’re kidding me,” Aonung muttered, stepping forward like you might vanish if he blinked. “No one’s seen you all day. We thought you were fish food.”
“I told you she’d make it, she has a reason to come home.” Kiri said, mostly to herself, her eyes wide. Neteyam still hadn’t let go of you. “What happened? You were gone.”
“I got… turned around. Lost in the tunnels for a bit,” you said, and before anyone could ask more, you reached for the cloth pouch secured at your side. “But I found the heart.” The crowd had just started gathering when you slowly unfolded the cloth and held out the faintly glowing scale. It shimmered in the moonlight. Deep purple-blue. Edged in rough ivory. Still pulsing like it was alive. Dead stunned silence. Lo’ak gawked. “Is that what I think it is?” Tsireya covered her mouth with both hands. “Oh, my Eywa…” Aonung took a slow step back. “Bro,” he said to no one, “she actually fought it.”
“She didn’t just fight it,” Kiri whispered. “She won.” Neteyam stared down at the scale like it might explode. “This—this is from its chest. That thing’s hide is like stone—how did you even get that?” You shrugged, grinning, despite the ache in your ribs. “Very carefully.”
Ronal and Tonowari stepped forward from the edges of the crowd, their usual composure gone. Ronal’s lips parted in disbelief. She looked down at the scale, then at you, then back at the scale again. “This…” she whispered. “This is the mark of a soul judged worthy by Eywa herself.” Tonowari’s brows shot up, his voice full of awe. “Three,” he muttered. “Only three have ever returned from the Spirit Veil with proof. And none in the last generation. You have earned our trust. You may live here, as one of us.” He said to you before turning to the crowd announcing you as the winner of the trials. The clan cheered loudly for you. Which made you smile victoriously.
Neteyam held you close as he walked you back to the mauri, back him. His arm around your waist as he helped you walk on the bouncy woven path. His family followed in step behind them include Tsireya who wasn’t ready to leave yet even though Aonung opted out of the late-night dinner plans. In the mauri Neytiri cleaned and wrapped your broken rib along with any other small scratches on your body. “You have a strong heart,” she said, her eyes studying your face. “You love strong… deep like the sea.” She placed her hand over your heart. “You did not run. You stay, fight, suffer… all to stand beside him. She nodded slowly. “That is what a mate does.” There was a silence, a look in her eyes, one you couldn’t quite name until she spoke again. “I see you. Eywa shows me. You are his. He is yours. And so…” she smiled gently, voice full of warmth. “…you are mine too.” Then she said it, full of tenderness.
“Ma’ite.” She touched her forehead to yours in the Na’vi way. Your eyes shimmered, but you didn’t cry. It just felt… nice, to be seen like that, to have a mother’s warmth again. “Thank you.” You whisper to her, you couldn’t find words of gratitude, what it felt like to be accepted into the family of the man you loved with ever piece of you soul. After your heartfelt conversation with Neytiri, Kiri and Tsireya helped you clean up and get dressed behind the divider, softly whispering asking you how you felt, if you were okay, if the baby was okay. But you just knew you could reassure them everything would now be okay.
Dinner was severed, roared fish and fruit with root mash, something you had grown to like while you lived with Neteyam’s family. Jake had prepared it, having watched his wife do it countless times he finally figured out how to use spices. Lo’ak had unpacked your stuff softly and Tuk bounced around the mauri filling it with like. Neteyam hooves, you felt clean now, relaxed, you wanted nothing more than to be close to him. Lo’ak had infused some healing tea while you were cleaning so you sipped it softly while eating, he’s not a boy if many sentimental words but he showed he cared. “I’m so hungry…I feel like I’m eating for three people.” You huff as you take your second helping of food.
Kiri and Tsireya looked down at their leaves of food like it had the answers to life, they didn’t want to spoil the secret they worked so hard to keep all day. Your words however, caught the attention of the entire mauri and Lo’ak spoke up, “how is your appetite so high? You’ve been eating like a beast since I met you.” He asked while eating and my eyes dart up to him, “you calling me fat bro?” I glance at him before taking another bite of food. Before he could answer though, Jake spoke up, “Neytiri ate like that when she was pregnant all three times, I had to go hunting every week.” He laughed as Neytiri swatted her hand at him. You lean into neteyam and laughed, and his arm distinctively held you there.
The air buzzed gently with laughter, shared food passed around with teasing grins and nudges, every moment steeped in comfort. It wasn’t just Neteyam’s family anymore. Somewhere between the trials, the quiet moments, and the way they had waited for you, worried for you, fought for you, it had become your family too. You didn’t feel like someone who had to prove themselves anymore. You felt loved. Chosen. Home.
You laughed softly at Jake’s comment about Neytiri, leaning into Neteyam as his arm wrapped around you. Taking a bite of your second helping, you paused for a moment, then muttered without thinking much about it, almost to yourself, but loud enough for the table: “I guess this growing hunger makes sense now… can’t say the nausea’s been too friendly either.” The words slipped out before you could stop them. Neteyam’s hand froze on your back. Tsireya and Kiri exchanged quick, knowing glances, trying not to smile. Lo’ak blinked, fork halfway to his mouth, eyes sharpening as he pieced it together. Jake gave a low whistle, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. Neytiri’s eyes softened, a slow smile blooming as she looked at you like you’d just become her daughter.
Neteyam’s gaze locked onto yours, confusion melting into dawning realization. He swallowed hard, a breath caught somewhere between shock and awe. You gave him a small, nervous smile. And just like that, the secret was out. “I’m pregnant.” The room held its breath for a moment, then laughter and warmth bubbled up all around. Tuk bounced excitedly, Neytiri’s eyes glistened with pride, and Jake shook his head with a smile. Neteyam just sat there, stunned, but proud.
“You’re pregnant? Really?” Neteyam’s voice was barely more than a breath, like saying it too loud would break the moment. His eyes searched yours, wide with disbelief, like he was seeing you for the first time all over again. You nodded slowly, the corner of your mouth lifting. “Yeah… really.” He stared at you for a second longer, his hand still gently cradling your side like you might disappear. “When did you find out?” he asked, the sounds of laughter and celebration from the others fading behind him, like the world had narrowed down to just you. “This morning,” you said softly. “Tsahìk confirmed it.” His brows pulled together, jaw tightening slightly with realization. “This morning?” “This morning?” he repeated, voice quiet, almost stunned. His brows lifted, eyes locked onto yours like he was trying to read the truth off your face. You gave a small nod. “Yeah… I didn’t want to say anything before the trial. I knew if you found out, you wouldn’t let me go.” Neteyam ran a hand down his face, breath leaving him in a soft, disbelieving laugh. “Eywa…” he whispered, still trying to take it in. Then he looked at you again, softer now, with something shining behind his eyes. “You did all of that… carrying our child?”
Neteyam’s eyes searched yours, his voice dropping even softer. “How far along are you?” thick with disbelief and wonder. “Twelve weeks.” You said softly to him “Twelve weeks?” he asked, his brow furrowing as the words left his mouth slowly. “That means… when?” You nodded gently, already knowing the realization was catching up to him. “In the cabin,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “When it was just me and you.” His breath caught, jaw parting just a little. “That was… the only time there… that was the first time.” You gave a small smile, heart pounding. “I know.” His hand moved instinctively, fingers brushing over your waist like it meant more now, like he was grounding himself. Then, he gave the softest laugh, part shocked, part amazed. “I left to come home,” he murmured, “and I didn’t even know you were carrying my heart with you.” You let out a small giggle before replying, “if it makes you feel better, I didn’t really know either.”
Three moons passed in a blur of kicks, cravings, and more love than you’d ever known possible. By six months, your belly had become the subject of daily conversation. “That can’t be just one baby,” Lo’ak would mutter, eyes wide as you tried, unsuccessfully to sit up without help. Even Kiri had started side-eying your bump during healing checks, mumbling things like, “Eywa loves symmetry, but this looks like chaos.” Neteyam, ever your calm, dependable anchor, simply kissed your stomach every morning with a reverent kind of awe, as if thanking Eywa for every new curve and flutter of movement. The mauri had changed too. Tonowari and Ronal graciously agreed to extend it, giving you and Neteyam a private alcove tucked just off the main space. It wasn’t extravagant, woven reed curtains for privacy, a bigger mat stuffed with soft moss and shells for support, and bundles of handmade baby things tucked neatly in corners—but it was yours. Home. His family had helped with everything, from carving storage bowls for your cravings, which changed daily, to weaving carriers and netting for the baby.
Tuk had taken to resting her head on your bump to “hear the baby think,” while Jake insisted, he wasn’t crying that one time he caught you and Neteyam napping together, both hands wrapped around your stomach. Neytiri, though still the fiercest voice in the family, had become your quiet guardian, often pressing cool herbs into your hands and rubbing lotions on your stomach to help with stretch marks or whispering bits of Na’vi wisdom about strength, motherhood, and patience. The baby had become everyone’s baby, loved long before it ever arrived. And as you walked slowly along the shore one night, Neteyam’s hand resting instinctively on the curve of your belly, the stars glittered above, and the sea hummed below. Everything felt right. Peaceful. Awaiting. Like the calm before something beautiful.
The mauri was alive with the buzz of an easy afternoon, sunlight slipping through the woven walls, Tuk’s humming filling the space, and the faint scent of grilled fish still hanging in the air. You were planted firmly on your favorite mat, surrounded by soft moss and folded wraps, hands splayed across your belly, which had now grown into a planet of its own.
Kiri sat cross-legged nearby, carving something into a bone pendant, while Lo’ak fiddled with a fishing spear he wasn’t planning to use anytime soon. You gave a long, theatrical sigh. “Guys, I think I’ve officially lost sight of my own feet.” Lo’ak didn’t even look up. “You lost those like a moon ago.” You squint at him “I’m serious. I feel like I swallowed an entire fruit basket.” Kiri smirked. “I’d say two baskets. One for each hip.” You glare at her. “You’re lucky I can’t stand fast enough to chase you.” Tuk popped up next to you and poked your stomach like it was a drum. “It’s so round! Do you think the baby’s sitting up in there with a little blanket and snacks?” Lo’ak chuckled. “Nah, with the way she’s eating, I think the baby’s got its own fruit stash.” You huffed as you tried and failed to sit up straighter. “Listen. If one more person comments on how big I am, I’m rolling into the ocean and becoming one with the waves.”
“That sounds like work,” Kiri muttered. “You haven’t moved in an hour.” You speak up victoriously “Exactly, I’ve reached peak comfort. I’m nesting.” The flap rustled, and Neteyam stepped into the mauri with a bundle of supplies in his arms. He paused when he saw you. His eyebrows lifted slowly. “…Eywa,” he said, crossing the space in a few strides. “Did you… grow since breakfast?” Tilting your head back to smile at him. “Don’t be dramatic,” you said. Lo’ak burst out laughing. “She’s like a growing root fruit.” Neteyam gave his brother a look before crouching beside you, placing a gentle hand on your belly. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Just slowly transforming into a living canoe.” Jake walked by then, catching the end of your sentence. “You better not be giving birth in the mauri. I just fixed that mat.” You time your head to him, “is that a joke? Are you making jokes? I’m only 6 months!” Kiri snorted, and Neytiri sighed as she passed by, inspecting the curve of your belly. “You should go see Tsahìk. It is getting big fast.” You shook your head without hesitation. “Nope. I’m one with this mat now. She can come to me.” Neteyam offered, already moving to scoop you up. “I’ll carry you,” You push his his arm slightly but not enough to move him away from you, “You lift me one more time and I’m biting you,” you grumbled. “I mean it this time.” Lo’ak snorted again. “She threatened me with a spoon earlier.”
“I will use it,” you said. Tuk nestled into your side and patted your belly softly. “Shhh. The baby is trying to sleep.” You closed your eyes for a moment, letting the warmth of the space and the sound of your family’s laughter wrap around you. No one was rushing. No one was worried. It was just… love. Loud, playful, comfortable love. Neteyam leaned in and whispered, “I missed you.” You grinned up at him. “I didn’t move. I physically couldn’t.”
Another symptom of your pregnancy was something you didn’t see coming at all. All you did was hit your second trimester and you started to feel everything, anywhere at anytime. It was honestly unfair how good Neteyam looked doing anything. He didn’t have to try. The way he moved, fluid and quiet, like the jungle and ocean had both taught him how, was enough to make your thoughts turn hot and heavy in an instant. Six months into your pregnancy, your body was changing by the day. You were slower now, heavier. But your senses? Heightened. Your skin felt more sensitive, your emotions sharper, and your need for Neteyam… constant. Sometimes it was a dull ache in your chest when he kissed your forehead instead of your mouth. Other times, it burned low in your belly just from watching him tie his armband or adjust the cords on his chest strap.
It didn’t help that he always wore so little. That typical Na’vi wrap sat low on his hips, and the way his muscles flexed when he lifted things, or pulled the net, or even just reached to brush your hair back, it was maddening. Everything about him called to you like a fire. A slow, patient fire that had been smoldering for days. And the worst part? He didn’t even know. He’d crouch next to you and rest his hand on your swollen belly, whisper sweet things to your unborn child, completely unaware of the way your eyes drank him in like water. He’d give you a smile, press a kiss to your cheek, then walk off to hang the day’s catch to dry and you’d be sitting there, clenching your teeth and gripping the woven mat like it had offended you. You wanted him. Not just in passing, not just romantically. You wanted him. And with your hormones tangled like vines and your body buzzing with heat, you knew it was only a matter of time before you either said something or accidentally tackled him the moment he walked through the door.
When Neteyam isn’t around, the need inside you curls tighter and tighter, restless and aching. You think about him constantly — the way his strong hands feel on your skin, how his fingers trace slow, deliberate paths over your body, and how just the memory makes your breath hitch. You long for him with a quiet urgency you can barely control. But when he finally comes back, everything changes. His hands are gentle but sure, sliding softly over your swollen belly, pausing to press light, soothing circles that make your muscles relax beneath his touch. His fingers trail along your sides, tracing patterns only he knows, fingertips brushing your skin so tenderly it sends shivers through you.
He cups your face in his large hands, thumbs brushing over your cheekbones, grounding you with the warmth of his touch. His hands don’t rush or demand — they ask, invite, and comfort. When he moves down your neck, the soft pads of his fingers knead away the tension you didn’t realize was holding you, his touch slow and reverent like he’s learning your body all over again. His lips follow his hands, pressing gentle, lingering kisses on your skin — small promises whispered in every caress. When he holds you close, you feel his heartbeat steady and strong against your own, a calm rhythm that quiets the storm of desire in your chest. When he finally takes you, it’s slow and careful, every movement filled with tenderness. His hands explore, never hurried, always attentive to how you respond. He listens to your breaths, matching the pace, and with each gentle touch, he eases the burning heat inside you into a soft, sweet warmth. Afterward, he pulls you close, his strong arms a sanctuary where you can relax completely. His touch lingers, fingers tracing lazy circles on your back, soothing and steady, as you drift in the quiet aftermath, still filled with need but soothed by the love and care only he can give.
Nine full months. And still… no baby. You were enormous. Not just big, monumental. Your stomach was stretched tight and high, skin glinting in the sun like the surface of a full moon. You had long stopped trying to see your toes. The little one inside had clearly made themselves comfortable, maybe too comfortable, kicking and shifting with the authority of someone who had no plans of leaving any time soon. You could watch your belly ripple like waves, tiny limbs gliding under the surface. It was mesmerizing. It was also driving you insane. The entire family had shifted around your pregnancy like moons orbiting a planet. Tuk spent every waking moment pressed to your side, resting her cheek on your stomach, whispering stories or making up songs about the baby’s future adventures. Kiri helped you with the finishing touches on tiny woven clothes and baby wraps, her hands gentle and steady, while Tsireya took it upon herself to make sure you were never alone for more than five minutes.
Even Lo’ak was surprisingly helpful — sometimes. He carried whatever you needed, fetched weird cravings without complaint, and made a game out of trying to guess when the baby would come, which he lost every day. Neteyam, though. Neteyam was your calm within the chaos. He built a crib by hand — sturdy, beautiful, covered in etchings of waves and leaf patterns. He’d carved them slowly, patiently, like every mark was a prayer. And at night, when the clan quieted and it was just the two of you, he’d lay behind you, wrap one arm under your stomach and one around your chest, his body curled to yours like a shield. Every night, without fail, he’d lower his head to your belly and whisper to the baby— your baby — as if they were already listening. Already loved. “I hope you look like her,” he’d murmur some nights. “But you’ll have my aim. That’s non-negotiable.” He’d talk until you fell asleep, and sometimes even after.
Lately, even standing felt like a chore. Your body ached in places you didn’t know could ache. Today was no exception — you stood just inside the shade of the mauri, hips tilted from the weight pulling you forward. You groaned under your breath, stretching one hand behind your lower back. Without a word, Neteyam came up behind you and gently curled his arms beneath your stomach. He lifted, just slightly — enough to take the crushing weight off your spine. Your whole body sagged in gratitude. “Don’t move,” you whispered, eyes fluttering shut. “Ever.” He chuckled, warm breath against your ear. “I’ll stay like this until the baby decides to come out.”
“You say that like it’s going to happen.” Your voice was sharp, but tired. “I’m convinced they’re building a second womb inside me. Moving in long-term.” He laughed again, kissing your shoulder, his fingers stroking the underside of your belly. There was nothing left to do. The baby clothes were done. The bedding was stitched and soft. The crib sat at the side of your room waiting — beautiful, empty. And the baby still hadn’t come.
By now, the entire clan had learned to give you a wide berth. Not because you were mean — you were just… volatile. Like a storm cloud with feet. A beautiful, radiant, achy, emotionally unstable storm cloud. This baby was stubborn. Eywa must’ve sent you the one child in all of Pandora who was already ignoring orders. And it was so hot. Not even the ocean breeze helped anymore. You swore the baby was cooking you from the inside out. Everyone had offered the usual comforts. Foot rubs. Back rubs. Endless herbal tea. But today, Neteyam came back from a trip to the cliffs with something different. He had built you a floating bed. Not a mat on the water — no, he had actually crafted a low-drifting cradle out of woven reed and soft hide, layered it with cloth, and anchored it in the shallows so it wouldn’t drift far. The water was cool and shallow beneath it. The whole thing rocked, gently, like a cradle for your exhausted bones. “I thought it might help with the weight,” he said sheepishly, offering a hand to help you in. And Eywa, it did. Your lower back eased immediately, pressure pulled away by the buoyancy. The water lapped around the edges as you floated, finally feeling weightless after weeks of dragging around your body like an overfilled satchel. You almost cried.
“Neteyam,” you muttered, laying back, “if you weren’t the one who did this to me, I would marry you right now.” He chuckled and knelt beside the bed, dipping a cloth in the water to lay across your forehead. “So, you’re saying there’s a chance.” But the peace was short-lived. The baby twisted hard, again making your stomach twitch and bulge like something feral was trapped inside. You gritted your teeth. “I love you, little one,” you growled at your stomach, “but if you don’t come out soon, I’m going in after you.” Neteyam looked alarmed. “Please don’t do that.” You huffed. “I’m serious, Nete. This child is playing games. I saw a whole elbow earlier. What are they doing in there? Rearranging furniture?” He held your hand, rubbing slow circles into your palm. “They’re just waiting for the right moment.” You stared up at the sky. “They better not be waiting for a full moon and a prophecy. I’m so done.”
You weren’t sure when the mission began, but at some point, the Sully family had fully committed to Operation: Get the Baby Out. It started innocently enough. Neytiri made a special herbal broth—something passed down through generations of Tsahìk women that was supposed to “gently encourage the little one to find their way out.” You didn’t have the heart to tell her it tasted like wet moss and regret. You sipped it anyway. Jake got involved the next morning. “Back on Earth, we used to do this thing called spicy food,” he said, proudly holding up a bowl of roasted fruit that had been coated in an eye-watering blend of Metkayina chilies. “Guarantees fireworks.” You took one bite and hiccuped for ten minutes straight while Neteyam silently stared at his father like he’d personally betrayed him. You finished the bowl anyways turns out you liked it a lot.
Kiri crafted a sort of lullaby-humming ritual using sound vibrations in the hopes the baby would respond and shift. You weren’t sure it did anything, but Tuk ended up curled up against your side mid-hum, fast asleep and snoring softly, so you considered it a partial success. Then there was Lo’ak. He showed up late in the evening with a wide, suspicious grin and said, “Okay, hear me out—giant ikran flight. We shake this baby loose.”
“Absolutely not,” Neteyam said at the exact same time you did. Still, Lo’ak didn’t let up, and by the next morning, he’d somehow recruited a pair of ilu and a makeshift sling to drag you around the shallows “gently.” Tsireya tried acupressure. A gentle hand pressing into your ankles while you lay back on a woven mat, breathing deeply. “It works for reef women,” she insisted. “Sometimes.” Even Aonung got involved. He brought over what he called a “warrior’s drum chant” that was definitely not meant for inducing labor but did shake the walls and wake the baby enough to get a few solid kicks right into your ribs. You were flattered. Tired. A little emotional. And very, very pregnant. But then, that night, after all the laughter and failed attempts, you were lying on your side with Neteyam behind you, his warm hand gently stroking across your taut belly. He whispered to your baby again, like he did every night, soft, reverent, in a voice so full of love it made your chest ache.
“I think they’re just waiting for the perfect moment,” he murmured against your shoulder. You sighed, equal parts exhausted and grateful. “They better hurry. If I get any bigger, someone’s gonna mistake me for a boulder and offer me as a sacrifice to Eywa.” Neteyam laughed softly and kissed the side of your neck. “Not a chance. You’re too beautiful for that.”
The night air curled in around the edges of your space, warm and salty, brushing against your flushed skin. You lay back in the floating bed Neteyam had built for you, swaying ever so gently with the water below — but it wasn’t the motion of the tide that had your breath catching in your throat. It was him. Neteyam hovered above you, golden in the lantern-light, all lean muscle and low, reverent breath. His braids brushed your collarbone as his mouth dragged slowly down your chest, tongue flicking against the salt-slick skin he’d kissed a hundred times before, yet always like it was new. His hands framed your belly with aching care, his thumbs stroking the sides as if he were still awed that you carried his child beneath your skin. “You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmured against your stomach, lips brushing the taut curve. “Carrying our baby. I can’t stop looking at you.” You whimpered, fingers threading into his braids. “Then stop looking and do something.” He huffed a soft laugh, low and intimate, before crawling up your body with a slowness that made your spine ache. “Bossy, now?” he teased, lips brushing yours. “What happened to patience?”
“Evaporated the moment I saw your hands today,” you breathed. “You know what you do to me…” And oh, he did. Neteyam kissed you deeply, tongue parting your lips as he settled between your thighs with careful weight. Every motion was slow, reverent — his hands on either side of your bump, his body surrounding yours, grounding you. His length brushed where you throbbed with want, and you lifted your hips with a soft moan, needing more. “Easy,” he whispered, kissing your temple. “I’ve got you. Let me take my time tonight.” He moved inside you with aching care, the stretch familiar, welcome, and still enough to take your breath. You clung to him, your body hypersensitive from months of longing — every brush of his lips against your skin, every shift of his hips, every whispered praise sent heat spiraling low in your belly. “You feel so good,” you whispered, trembling beneath him. “Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”
“I won’t,” he promised, pressing kisses to your jaw, your cheek, your mouth. “I’ll give you everything. All of me. Always.” Your bodies rocked in rhythm — soft moans in the quiet, the creak of woven fibers, the faint slap of skin on skin. Your belly shifted between you, round and full, and Neteyam never stopped touching it, his thumb tracing where the baby moved inside. It felt like being worshipped — claimed and loved all at once. You wrapped your arms around his back and gasped as he rolled his hips deeper, slower — just enough to make you shudder.
Then— Sudden, deep pressure. A hard jolt that made your entire core tighten—not in pleasure, but something sharper, tighter. You gasped. Froze. Neteyam’s eyes snapped open above you. “What was that?”
“I—I don’t…” Another wave slammed through you, stronger. Your fingers clutched his shoulders. “That wasn’t you. I think—” Neteyam pulled back just enough to see your face, panic creeping into his expression. “No, no, wait. That wasn’t—?” You winced as your entire body clenched with another contraction. “…Eywa,” you breathed, “I think I’m in labor.” He blinked once. Twice. “…Did I just sex you into labor?” You groaned, laughing weakly through the pain. “Neteyam!”
“I mean—damn, I knew I was good but—” He was already grabbing for your clothes, panicking as he tried to pull himself together. “Okay! Okay, it’s happening! You’re having the baby, I’m—we’re having the baby!” His hands flew everywhere—your hips, your back, your arms—until you grabbed his wrist and dragged his face back to yours. The second contraction came like a crashing wave, stronger than the first, cutting through your spine and tightening around your swollen belly. You hissed, breath stolen, your hands clutching at Neteyam’s bare shoulders as your legs trembled beneath you on the floating bed. Neteyam moved fast, panic under his skin but his hands steady. “Okay, okay—hold onto me,” he murmured, kneeling beside you as he grabbed the nearest cloth wrap and quickly dressed you. He was gentle, pulling the soft fabric over your hips, adjusting it over your belly without hesitation, lips brushing your temple even as you gritted your teeth against the pain.
He threw on his own loincloth the movement swift, practiced, even though his hands were shaking now too. The second contraction hadn’t even fully passed before he swept one arm under your knees and the other behind your back. “Let’s get you inside,” he whispered. He stepped from the floating bed to the anchored wooden platform, careful with his footing despite his urgency. The cool night air clung to his skin, and you buried your face in his neck, gripping the strap across his chest. Inside the mauri, all was quiet—his family still sound asleep in the wide common space. Neteyam’s footsteps were soft but quick as he carried you through the dim, woven light, toward the private room you both shared. You let out a long breath—until the third contraction struck. A sharp, involuntary cry tore from your throat. It was louder than you meant, loud enough to bounce off the walls of the mauri. Someone rustled. Then— “Neteyam?” Neytiri’s voice came first, sharp and immediate, followed by the sounds of her rising swiftly to her feet. She stepped into the soft light and caught sight of him just as he turned the corner into the private space. She stopped in her tracks, eyes wide. “Is it—?”
“She’s in labor,” Neteyam said over his shoulder, his voice tight and low. “Third contraction just hit.” Behind her, Kiri sat upright, blinking through sleep. “What? Wait—wait what?” Lo’ak groaned somewhere behind them, still half-asleep. “It’s the middle of the night…”
“She’s in labor,” Neytiri snapped without looking at him, already moving toward you, calm but urgent. Jake’s voice joined the shuffle. “Shit, I knew it’d happen like this.” He groaned out sleepily. “Language,” Neytiri barked. “Sorry.” Tuk stirred next, confused and curious. “The baby’s coming?!” she gasped, scrambling up and pressing her hands excitedly over her mouth. Kiri was already pulling her hair up, tossing you a supportive look as she moved toward the shelves. “We need Tsahìk.”
“I’ll go,” Neteyam said quickly, already lowering you onto the bedding. “Stay with her.” Neytiri crouched beside you in a flash, brushing your damp hair back as you caught your breath, her touch steady. “We’ve got you, ma’ite,” she said, her voice a calming anchor as you braced for the next wave. Another contraction slammed into you like a wave crashing against rock, making your whole body tighten and tremble. You cried out despite yourself, curling forward, the tension sparking through every muscle. Neytiri was instantly at your side, hand wrapped around yours, the other brushing damp hair from your face. “Stay with me, ma’ite. Breathe. Let it move through you.” Kiri sat close, whispering calmly as she wiped your face with a cool cloth. “Almost there. You’re doing amazing. It’s just your body opening. Let it happen.”
Jake knelt behind Neytiri, eyes sharp and locked on you. His face was tight with concern, even if he tried to mask it with his usual calm. “That one sounded rough,” he muttered. “She’s fine,” Neytiri said without looking at him, focused entirely on you. “Strong contraction. It’s good.” Lo’ak stood a little off to the side, tense, his arms folded and jaw tight. He didn’t know what to do, clearly overwhelmed—but he stayed, hovering near. Tuk was tucked against his side, clinging to his arm and watching everything with huge eyes. “She’s really hurting,” Tuk whispered to Lo’ak, her voice small. Lo’ak dropped a hand to her head, ruffling her braids gently. “I know, Hì'i tsmuke. But she’s strong. She’s okay. The baby’s just stubborn.” Tuk peeked past him again, concerned but trusting. “Will it hurt the baby?”
“No,” Lo’ak said quickly, quietly. “Just takes a lot to bring them here.” Just then, the flap of the marui rustled and Neteyam reappeared, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on you. He stepped aside just in time for Tsahìk, to enter in a rush, her presence like a steady wind cutting through panic. Tsireya was right behind her with a basket of herbs and supplies. “She is not crowning yet?” Ronal asked, kneeling beside you without hesitation. “Not yet,” Neytiri answered, sliding aside for the healer. Ronal placed her hands on your belly and closed her eyes. “The body is progressing. The baby is low but not ready. You must hold on. Do not push yet.” Tsireya moved gracefully, placing fresh cloths down beside Kiri and offering you a soft, encouraging smile. “You’re doing so well. It won’t be much longer.”
Neteyam was beside you again in an instant, slipping behind you to support your back, his arms strong around your belly as he lifted some of the weight. You sagged against him, heart pounding, and he murmured against your temple, “I’ve got you. You’re almost there, yawne.” Jake moved beside Ronal, taking one of your feet in his hands and rubbing slow circles to soothe the muscles. “You’re okay, babygirl. You’re not alone. We’re right here.” Another contraction ripped through you like fire. You hissed, cried out, and arched your back. Kiri’s eyes went wide. “That one was different.” Ronal nodded. “Yes. Her body is opening now. Be ready.” The marui was filled with motion, hushed voices and steady hands. Amid the chaos, Lo’ak quietly knelt to pull Tuk into his lap, shielding her view with his body as she clung to him. “What’s happening?” she whispered again. Lo’ak bent close to her ear, rubbing her back. “The baby’s almost here, Tuk. She’s doing good. Just be brave a little longer, okay?” Tuk nodded seriously, staying close, her little hand wrapped in her brother’s. And through it all, you clung to Neteyam’s warmth behind you—his breath on your skin, his heartbeat against your spine, as the most sacred moment of your life barreled closer.
The room felt tighter with every passing moment — bodies moving, voices trying to comfort, the rhythm of activity surrounding you like crashing waves. But Ronal, eyes sharp and steady, suddenly lifted her hand. “Everyone out,” she commanded, her voice calm but firm. “Now.” There was a pause — a ripple of surprise — but no one dared argue. Jake hesitated for just a moment, eyes darting from you to Neteyam, then to Neytiri. When she gave him a nod, he gave your shoulder a final reassuring squeeze. “You’ve got this, kid,” he murmured to you, then kissed Neytiri’s temple and stepped away. “Come on, Lo’ak, take Tuk.” Lo’ak gently scooped up Tuk, who gave you one last wide-eyed glance over his shoulder as she clung to his neck. “You’re gonna be a mama soon!” she whispered excitedly, and then they were gone, slipping out with Kiri behind them. The marui flap rustled closed, and the world fell quiet. Only four remained now: you, Ronal, Neytiri, Tsireya, and Neteyam, who had not let go of you for a second.
Ronal knelt back down beside you, her hands sure and smooth as she pressed against your belly. “This is where we focus,” she said. “Only what matters. Her body is nearly ready.” Neytiri moved to your other side, her grip tightening gently on your arm. “You are not alone, ma’ite. We are here.” Tsireya quietly lit a fresh coil of calming herbs, the sweet smoke curling through the space like a soft hand smoothing tension from the air. You let your head drop back against Neteyam’s chest as another contraction built, the pressure turning sharp and relentless. You cried out and his arms tightened, his lips brushing against your cheek. “Breathe. I’ve got you. Right here. Just let me carry it with you.” His voice was soft but unwavering. One hand cradled your belly, the other gripped your hand tightly — and for a moment, all that existed was that circle of presence. You. Him. Your mother-in-law. And the girl who had been like a sister.
The hours blurred together in a haze of sweat, pain, and whispered reassurances. By sunrise, your body had already begun to tremble under the strain. The contractions were brutal, rolling over you like crashing waves—deep, dragging, and sharp enough to take your breath away. You clung to Neteyam like a lifeline, your forehead pressed to his chest, nails digging into his arms, sweat dripping down your temples. He stayed with you, steady and calm even as exhaustion carved shadows under his eyes. He whispered to you, words only meant for your ears: “You’re doing so good,” and “Just a little longer, she’s almost here.” Neytiri remained like a statue of grace at your side, wiping your brow with cool cloths, her tone calm, her eyes fierce with maternal pride and worry. Tsireya worked quietly, refreshing water basins, fetching what Ronal needed, her hands trembling only slightly.
As midday settled in and the heat thickened in the marui, Jake stepped inside with a carved bowl in one hand, Tuk clutching the hem of his loincloth with the other. “She still hasn’t come?” he asked gently, setting down the bowl of broth and water nearby. “No,” Neteyam said, his voice hoarse. “But soon.” You groaned through another contraction and Tuk hurried to your side, resting her small hand on your leg. “You’re being so brave,” she whispered, her eyes big and sincere. “Is the baby almost here?”
“It’s trying,” you managed between gritted teeth. Lo’ak ducked in behind them not long after, carrying another cloth bundle, clean wraps and a waterskin. “I thought this stuff would be over by now,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. But he softened when he saw you. “You good?” You didn’t answer—you were halfway through another contraction—but Neteyam nodded. “We’ve got it.” Kiri came next, brushing past Lo’ak with more urgency and care. She crouched near you, inspected your face, then pressed her lips together in sympathy. “You’re doing amazing,” she murmured, pouring cool water into a wooden cup and helping you drink. “I don’t think I could do this.” They stayed only for a few minutes each time—no one lingering long in the heavy, charged air of the marui. But they kept coming back. Checking in. Bringing cool towels, quiet encouragement, water, broth, little things to ease the unbearable wait.
As the second night began to fall, you could barely speak. You’d sobbed through another unbearable contraction, knees buckling, nails clawing at the mats as Neteyam held you upright. He whispered against your cheek, “You’ve come too far to stop now. She’s almost here.” And you wanted to believe it. But the hours had taken their toll. Your body burned. Your bones felt broken. You were sick of breathing. Sick of pushing. Sick of waiting. “I want it out,” you gasped through clenched teeth, tears streaming down your face. “I want it out now.”
“I know, baby,” Neteyam whispered, voice fraying with emotion. “We’re almost there. You’re almost done.” Ronal’s voice broke through the blur of pain, calm but commanding. “It is time. You need to push now.” You barely had the strength to hold your head up, but Neteyam was there, arms locked around your chest, supporting every trembling breath. His cheek pressed against yours as he whispered, “You can do this, baby. Just breathe with me. One more time.” The next contraction rose like fire under your skin, hot, unbearable and you cried out as you bore down with everything you had left. Ronal’s hands moved expertly, steady, guiding. “Good. Again. She is almost here.”
She. Neteyam’s breath hitched. You choked on a laugh between gasps. “A girl?” “Yes,” Ronal confirmed simply, voice unshaken. “Your daughter.” Tears streamed freely down your face. Neteyam pressed a kiss to your temple, his hands shaking where they gripped your arms. “You’re doing it, love. We’re almost there. We’re so close.” Another wave built in your spine—your hips—and you screamed through it, the pressure breaking like a storm. Then, a wail. Piercing. Raw. New. Ronal caught the tiny, slippery body in her hands, expertly wrapping her as she let out her first breath of life beneath the glow of the moonlight. “She is strong,” she murmured, wiping the baby down with practiced ease. “Very strong.” Your heart cracked wide open.
But instead of placing the baby in your arms, Ronal turned and gently handed her to Tsireya, who stood nearby with eyes wide, waiting. You blinked at the exchange, still dazed and breathing hard. “Wait… why—why aren’t you giving her to me?” Ronal didn’t answer. Her attention was already back on your belly. Neteyam noticed first. He shifted behind you, trying to see around your side. “What’s wrong? Is she okay?”
“She is fine,” Ronal replied calmly. “But you are not done. There is another.” Your head turned so fast toward Neteyam he flinched like he’d been struck. “…What?” Your whole body froze. Neteyam leaned forward in disbelief. “What do you mean… another?” Ronal pressed gently on your still-taut abdomen. “You are still contracting. The second baby is smaller, likely hidden behind the first. You are carrying twins.” You stared at her. “What?!” you exploded, voice cracking with disbelief and exhaustion. “No—no, no, no! ONE baby! ONE!”
Neteyam, still holding you upright from behind, tensed as if stabbed. “Wait, what—did she say twins?!” You whipped your head around to glare up at him again, feral and wide-eyed. “YOU GOT ME PREGNANT WITH TWINS?!” Neteyam froze. “I—I didn’t know—how was I supposed to know?!”
“You didn’t NOTICE I was the size of a whale?!” you shrieked. “You didn’t think, ‘Wow, maybe one of those limbs kicking me in the ribs belongs to a second baby?!’” Outside the curtain, there was a loud thump. A moment later, Jake’s muffled voice came through. “Shit that’s some strong genes.” Kiri groaned audibly. “Oh great. That explains the constant mood swings. I thought she was gonna bite someone last week.” Lo’ak’s disbelieving cackle followed. “Oh shit.”
“Oh! Can I name the other one?!” Tuk squeaked. Back in the room, another contraction tore through you like fire. You grabbed Neteyam’s arm and yanked him closer, teeth bared. “This is YOUR fault!” you hissed. “You did this to me! I hope you’re proud of yourself!” Neteyam looked like he was about to pass out. “I’m so sorry. I swear I didn’t know—Eywa, I thought it was just a strong baby!”
“Well, congratulations,” you snapped. “It’s two. And they’re both clawed their way out of me today!” Ronal was unfazed as she prepared for the second delivery. “The next one is moving quickly.” Neytiri crouched beside you, brushing your sweat-soaked face. Her lips twitched with a mix of sympathy and amusement. “This will make a fine story.” You hissed through your teeth. “I’ll write it down after I strangle your son.” Lo’ak cracked from outside, “She’s gonna be mad at him ‘til the kids are grown.” Inside, Neteyam tried to whisper soothing things against your temple, but you growled. “Do not. Speak. I liked you before. That’s over.”
“Noted,” he squeaked.
The second wave hit harder than the last, tearing through your body with a force that made you cry out, back arching despite Neteyam’s steady arms around you. You barely had time to process ronal gently placing your daughter in Tsireya’s waiting arms before the next contraction surged, and you knew. The second baby was coming. “Ma’ite, breathe,” Neytiri whispered from in front of you, her hands firm but gentle on your knees. “He’s almost here.” You were shaking, soaked with sweat, clinging to Neteyam’s thighs as he cradled you from behind—his breath warm against your neck, his voice hoarse as he tried to soothe you through it. “You’re doing so good,” he whispered, “just one more, just one more push, baby, come on.” Your muscles burned as you pushed again, a sob ripping from your throat but then, in the next breath, you felt it. The release. The shift. And then a sound wet, small, and sharp. “He’s here,” Ronal said calmly but clearly, and for a moment, the entire world seemed to exhale with you.
You collapsed against Neteyam’s chest, gasping, heart pounding as the cries grew louder—your son’s first breaths echoing in the space as Ronal gently lifted him, already wrapping him in a soft cloth. He was tiny, streaked with birth, but undeniably alive. Strong. Beautiful. Neteyam pressed his head to yours as he let out a quiet, shaking laugh of relief. “A boy,” he whispered, wonder in every syllable. “We have a son.”
Tsireya was already cradling your daughter gently, her face lit with awe as she softly whispered something to the little one, who squirmed and released a tiny, bleating cry. Neytiri, who had taken the boy from Ronal’s hands, held him against her chest with practiced grace, eyes shimmering as she looked between the two newborns. You lay back against Neteyam’s chest, utterly spent, your body still trembling from the hours of labor, but the sight of your children alive and breathing sent waves of warmth surging through your aching limbs. Neteyam’s arms remained tightly around yours, anchoring you in that moment as his lips brushed reverently against the crown of your head. The women moved with gentle purpose. Neytiri and Tsireya cleaned the twins together, using warm cloths and murmuring quiet praises in soft Na’vi as they wiped away the remnants of birth. Your daughter wailed softly in Tsireya’s arms, her tiny fists flailing, while your son made little grunting sounds, already strong in his grandmother’s hands. Then, together, they returned.
Tsireya came first, stepping close with a radiant smile as she eased your daughter into the crook of your right arm. Her warmth immediately calmed the little one. Neytiri followed, placing your son gently in your left. Your arms adjusted instinctively, with Neteyam’s larger hands helping to steady both babies in your hold, his body curled protectively behind yours. You looked down at them, utterly stunned by how small and perfect they were, blinking at the world with cloudy eyes, as though they too couldn’t believe they were finally here. Neteyam rested his chin against your shoulder, breath warm. “They’re everything,” he whispered, emotion thick in his voice. “Eywa… just look at them.” Neytiri smiled softly and touched your shoulder. “We’ll give you a moment.”
Tsireya nodded, her eyes tender and glassy. “You both need rest… and time to meet them.” You nodded, wordless, barely able to tear your eyes away from your children. Neytiri pulled back the curtain and the two women stepped out, quietly parting the space to let the dim evening light back in. You caught a flash of the family waiting just outside, Jake standing tall, his arms around Tuk who was bouncing with barely-contained excitement, Lo’ak craning his neck, and Kiri with her hands pressed over her heart. Then the flap closed again. Silence fell, soft and sacred.
You guided your daughter gently to your breast, adjusting her with one hand while Neteyam helped steady your son in the other. The little girl latched quickly, tiny mouth working instinctively, and your breath caught in wonder. Neteyam gazed down at your son in your arms, the baby staring up at him as if he already knew exactly who he belonged to. You leaned your head back against Neteyam’s shoulder. “Twins,” you whispered with a shaky laugh. “You owe me so much for this.” He laughed under his breath, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Anything. Everything. You name it.” Then, with both your children in your arms, his arms around you, and the long, quiet night settling in… nothing else in the world mattered. The room was heavy with warmth and silence, lit softly by the filtered glow of morning through the woven walls. The world had narrowed down to just the three of you, four, now and the quiet rise and fall of breath.
Your daughter had nursed first, clumsily but determined, her little fists pressing against your chest. Your son followed soon after, smaller but no less eager, his jaw working slowly as he fed. You held them both across your arms, your body still trembling with exhaustion, but your heart so full it threatened to overflow. Neteyam had been behind you the whole time, arms bracketing yours, holding you steady through the haze of pain, joy, and awe. Now, as both babies drifted into a peaceful post-feeding sleep, he carefully shifted from behind you. His hands lingered for a moment, brushing over your shoulders, before he knelt in front of you, his eyes flicking from your flushed face to the bundled newborns resting against your chest. “You did it. I’m so proud of you,” he whispered, voice thick with wonder. “I’m so tired,” you murmured, leaning slightly toward him. “I know, yawne.” His voice was soft. “Let me take care of you now.” Gently, he helped you lift your arms, adjusting your clothing with delicate precision. He used a damp cloth to wipe away the sweat at your brow, along your chest, and down the curve of your neck, his touch reverent and slow. Then he leaned in and kissed your cheek, brushing his nose against yours, grounding you in the quiet after the storm. “May I?” he asked, nodding to the babies. You nodded, too tired to speak. With grace, Neteyam leaned in and slid one arm beneath the back of your daughter, the other beneath your son. You didn’t hesitate for a moment—your arms just let go since you trusted him more than anyone. He drew them close to his chest, cradling both with wide, careful hands, his thumbs brushing their small torsos as he looked down at them. His breath hitched.
They were so small in his arms, wrapped in the soft woven cloth Tsireya had prepared during those long weeks of waiting. Their skin was a dusky violet, their ears slightly curled, and already they seemed to know his touch, their tiny bodies settling against him with a deep, instinctive trust. “Hi,” he whispered, staring down at them with the softest, most disbelieving smile you’d ever seen on his face. “I’m your sempu.” You blinked, chest tightening at the sight of him—bare-chested, eyes shining, his entire soul pouring into that moment. His mother stood quietly at the edge of the room, watching the two of you with tears in her eyes. She hadn’t said a word, giving you both this time, her hands clasped gently before her. But when Neteyam turned to look at her, she stepped forward silently and brushed a hand over his shoulder. “You are ready,” she said softly, pride brimming in her voice. “You are already everything they need.” He nodded wordlessly.
Then, outside the woven partition, a familiar rustling broke the silence. “She, okay?” came Lo’ak’s voice, muffled but anxious. “Can we see now?” Tuk added, trying to whisper but failing entirely. Neteyam looked at you, waiting for your nod, and only when you gave a tired smile did, he turn toward the door. “Alright,” he called gently. “Come meet them.” The flap lifted, and the rest of the family stepped into the soft light—Jake with one arm around Kiri, Lo’ak and Tsireya hovering protectively behind Tuk, who was already rushing forward, her hands pressed over her mouth in awe. “Oh wow,” she whispered. “They’re so small.” Jake stopped beside Neytiri, quiet but beaming, while Kiri stepped up to the other side of your bed and rested her hand lightly over your shoulder. And in the middle of it all, Neteyam stood tall, still holding both his children against his chest, his eyes flicking back to you with such overwhelming love that your breath caught in your throat.
Lo’ak lingered in the back for a moment, eyes wide, almost like he was unsure if he should intrude on something so tender. But the moment he saw how pale and exhausted you looked—sitting propped up, arms limp now that the babies were in Neteyam’s hold—he moved without a word. He crossed the room quietly and lowered himself beside you, close but careful not to jostle the bedding. His usual swagger was gone, replaced by something quieter, almost reverent. “You okay?” he asked, voice low, eyes flicking over your face. He looked like he’d just run from battle, but his tone was soft as a feather. You nodded, still catching your breath. “Yeah. Just… tired.” Lo’ak exhaled a sound that might have been a laugh or a sigh—relief, mostly. Then he reached up and gently touched your arm. “You were incredible. Seriously. That was… crazy.” You turned your head slightly to look at him, managing a small, weary smile. “It was.” His eyes drifted to the babies in Neteyam’s arms, and his lips parted in wonder. “So that’s them, huh?” You nodded again, and this time your voice was almost a whisper. “Your niece and nephew.” He blinked, then grinned—wide, real, the kind that brought all the youth back into his face. “That sounds so weird,” he said, then looked at you with something gentler. “But kind of amazing.” Tuk had crept to Neteyam’s side, peering eagerly up at the sleeping twins. Kiri knelt behind her, watching closely, hands folded at her chest while Tsireya kneeled on the other side of Neteyam. Lo’ak reached out, just barely brushing his knuckles against your hand. “You did good, big sis,” he said, a quiet kind of pride in his voice.
You laughed softly, but the tears still came, uninvited and warm. You hadn’t realized how much you needed your little brother right there, in that moment—someone who had seen all your battles and bruises, now sitting beside you when you were at your most raw and real. And just across from you, Neteyam glanced up, eyes meeting yours—still holding both his children with the same tenderness he always held you. Lo’ak had settled right beside you on the floor, careful not to jostle you as you leaned back against the mound of soft woven blankets. You were still sore, your body aching and your belly round but deflated—like it hadn’t quite gotten the message that its job was done. Lo’ak tilted his head, staring at it with that very specific older-brother-who-has-no-filter expression. He slowly reached out and poked it. Squish. You slapped his hand with a tired glare. “Lo’ak.”
“What?” he laughed, eyes wide in mock innocence. “It’s just… it’s still there! But it’s like, not baby hard. It’s like…” he poked again—faster this time to avoid another smack. “It’s like a sack of warm jelly.”
“Say one more thing and I’ll make you carry them for nine months next time,” you grumbled, elbowing him half-heartedly.
“Hey, hey, I’m being supportive,” he said, hand to his chest like he was deeply offended. “I’m bonding with my nephew’s former apartment.” You let out a breathy laugh despite yourself, too tired to argue. “That apartment just ruined my spine and cracked my ribs. Show some respect.” “Respect to the jelly sack,” he said with a bow, then instantly ducked when you tried to smack him again.
Across the room, Neteyam stood with his parents, gently transferring the babies into their arms for the first time—Neytiri’s face awash with emotion, Jake looking both proud and terrified. Kiri and Tsireya leaned over Tuk, who was carefully holding a baby’s little foot between her fingers like it was made of starlight. But your moment, right here—sweaty, sore, and barely stitched back together—was somehow perfect in its ridiculousness. Especially with Lo’ak beside you, smirking and still watching your belly like it might suddenly deflate with a whoosh. “Tell Neteyam I want ice,” you muttered. Lo’ak grinned. “On it. Ice for the jelly sack.”
Neytiri sat with the baby girl tucked against her chest, her expression soft and reverent as she gently rocked the tiny bundle. Across the marui, Jake held the boy, his massive arms cradling him like something sacred. The tension of the long night had passed, replaced now by a thick, honey-sweet quiet. Sunlight filtered through the woven walls, casting golden dapples across the floor. The waves whispered in the distance. Peace had returned. You leaned into Neteyam who had same to sit on the other side of you now, utterly spent, with his arm draped across your shoulders and his cheek resting against your hair. Neither of you said a word—just watching as your family took in the tiny lives you’d brought into the world. Tsireya was crouched near Neytiri, her hand resting lightly on your knee, as if grounding you. Kiri sat nearby, legs crossed, eyes soft with wonder. Lo’ak had let Tuk climb into his lap, her head resting against his chest while she peeked at the babies with wide, curious eyes. Jake was the one who finally broke the silence. He smiled as he looked between the two infants in his and Neytiri’s arms and said with a quiet warmth, “So… what are their names?” You and Neteyam shared a glance, and he smiled, still glowing, still looking at you like you were the most incredible thing Eywa had ever made. He nodded for you to speak.
You swallowed, heart full. “Her name… is Ayula,” you said, voice soft. Neytiri gasped gently, her fingers stroking the girl’s cheek as she repeated, “Ayula…” Her eyes welled with emotion. “A beautiful name.” You looked to Jake, still holding the boy with proud, careful hands. “And his name is Niväk.” A beat passed, thick with feeling. Jake gave a low, approving hum. “Ayula and Niväk,” he echoed, eyes shining. “Perfect.” Tsireya let out a soft, joyful laugh. “They’re beautiful names,” she said, reaching out to lightly touch your arm. “Fitting for such beautiful little souls.” Tuk blinked up from Lo’ak’s lap, whispering the names to herself in wonder. “Ayula… Niväk…”
“They sound like they were born from the sea,” Kiri said gently, smiling at you. “Like something Eywa whispered.” Neteyam’s hand squeezed yours, his lips brushing the side of your head. “They’re already loved,” he murmured. “So much.” And around you, your family wide-eyed, tearful, glowing, held your children like treasures the ocean had carried in just for them.
The weeks blurred into moons, and though the exhaustion was real, sleepless nights, sore limbs, milk-stained wraps, quiet crying at dawn, there was also an overwhelming softness to it all. Your body had changed in ways you never expected. Your belly, once impossibly round, flattened over time, but your figure was different now. Your hips had widened, your thighs had a new weight and strength to them, and your chest, full of milk, pulled your shoulders forward in a way that made your silhouette curve like a wave.
At first, you felt uncertain in your skin, like your reflection didn’t quite belong to you. But Neteyam never let that feeling last long. From the moment your healing allowed him to touch you more freely, he became obsessive, reverent. His hands were everywhere, slow and worshipful. He’d run his palms over the new lines of your waist like he was learning them from memory, always lingering at the dip of your lower back or the soft slope of your hip. Sometimes you’d just laid Ayula or Niväk down in the crib and turn to leave, only for him to pull you back against his chest, pressing you gently into the carved wood frame, lips brushing your neck. “Look at you,” he’d murmur, low and heat wrapped. “How could you think you’re anything less than perfect?”
Other nights, long after the babies were asleep and the world was quiet except for the tide, he’d follow you as you moved about the room. His hands would come to rest at your waist, fingers spreading possessively, thumbs stroking slow circles into your sides as if you might disappear. “You were always beautiful,” he said one night, his voice rough with sleep and longing. “But now… now, you’ve never looked more powerful. More…mine.” It made something shift in you. Every time he looked at you, touched you, whispered things only you were meant to hear, you didn’t just feel desired—you felt sacred. Like every curve, every scar, every soft place your body carried after birth was a mark of love, of pride.
Even in the chaos of new parenthood, he found ways to sneak those touches in. A hand smoothing over your hip as you passed, lips brushing the back of your neck while you nursed, fingertips grazing your thigh beneath the woven wrap at dinner. It never stopped being tender. Never stopped being Neteyam showing you—in a thousand quiet ways—that to him, you weren’t just the mother of his children. You were everything.
You were just laying Niväk down in the woven seaweed-lined crib next to his sleeping sister, Neteyam had crafted with his own hands, when those very same hands slipped around your waist from behind.“Babies are asleep,” he whispered, voice low and dangerous against your ear, “but I’m wide awake.” You rolled your eyes, smiling anyway as his palms smoothed over your hips, slow and possessive. “You said you were going to help clean the fish, not try and start something in front of the children.”
“Can’t help it,” he murmured, pressing closer until you felt the heat of him through your wrap, his nose nudging behind your ear. “You walk around here with these new curves like you don’t know what you’re doing to me.” He started to press soft kisses along your neck, hands sliding up your sides, then. “EW.” You both froze. Lo’ak stood in the entryway, face twisted in horror, a carved toy in one hand and a stunned Tuk peeking from behind him. “Bro. BRO. She just put the baby down. What is wrong with you?!” Neteyam groaned and dropped his forehead to your shoulder while you stifled a laugh. “I swear, you’ve got like a five-minute timer before you go full feral,” Lo’ak continued, walking past with exaggerated disgust. “The woman just gave birth and you’re out here trying to plant a whole other set of twins—”
“Lo’ak,” you choked out, covering your mouth to keep from laughing too loud. Neteyam pointed at him over your shoulder. “I will fight you.”
“You’d have to let go of her first,” Lo’ak quipped. “Which, honestly, I don’t think you’re physically capable of anymore.” Tuk giggled. “Neteyam loves her sooo much.”
“Thank you, Tuk,” Neteyam muttered, deadpan. “You’re the only one who gets me.”
“You’re disgusting,” Lo’ak called from the other side of the room. “Get a tide-hut.”
A couple weeks later, you were nestled on the woven floor mat, back resting against Neteyam’s chest as Ayula slept soundly in your arms and Niväk rested snugly in his. The mauri was peaceful, dim with the soft gold of the setting sun peeking in through the thatch. You’d been soaking in every second of these quiet moments, and frankly, you weren’t ready to give them up. That peace, however, was promptly disturbed by Kiri breezing in with the casual force of a storm. “Sooo… what are you two wearing to the clan gathering tonight?” she asked far too innocently, already scanning your baskets of folded wraps like she was going to dress you herself. You blinked up at her. “We weren’t planning on going.”
“You weren’t—” Kiri blinked like you’d just said you hated Eywa. “But… it’s the first big gathering since the babies were born!” Neteyam spoke mildly, adjusting his arm around Niväk. “We don’t really feel like putting on beads and smiling at people.” Kiri opened her mouth to argue, but then—“I can help!” Tuk’s voice piped up from the entrance. She bounded in barefoot and practically vibrating with excitement. “Kiri said I could help rock the cradles and tell them stories and—and maybe feed them just a little—” You and Neteyam both stared at her, then slowly looked at Kiri, who was suddenly very interested in the patterns on the baby wraps. “…Why are you two so eager to babysit?” you asked slowly, narrowing your eyes. “No reason,” Kiri said a little too fast. “Just thought you two might want a little break. Some time to feel like humans—uh, people—again.”
“Also,” Tuk added helpfully, “Lo’ak says you two act gross and romantic when no one’s watching so you probably want alone time.” You made a strangled sound as Neteyam choked back a laugh. “That little skxawng,” you muttered. Jake suddenly leaned into the entrance. “You going or what? Your fan club’s been asking about you.” Behind him, Tsireya waved gently, already dressed in soft ocean-toned beads. “I told them you’d show. Everyone wants to see you. You’ve both been missed.” Neytiri added as she stepped inside, her voice warm but firm, “You need to rejoin the village, even if it’s just for a few hours.” You glanced down at your children, warm and asleep in your arms and Neteyam’s. Then to Tuk, who was clasping her hands in hopeful excitement, and Kiri who was — very obviously — not making eye contact. “…If anything happens—”
“I swear we’ll come get you,” Kiri promised. “You’ll be ten steps away at most.” Neteyam exhaled a breath beside you, nudging you gently. “Come on, ma yawne. Let’s just go. Say hi. Eat something without one of them strapped to us.” You hesitated one last second… then nodded. “Fine,” you said. “But we’re not staying long.” Tuk squealed with joy and immediately ran to get the small woven toys from the shelf. “We’re gonna have so much fun!” You watched her buzz around while Kiri prepared the sleeping mats, and you leaned over to whisper to Neteyam, “They’re definitely up to something.”
“Oh yeah,” he whispered back, grinning. “But we’ll deal with it later. Let’s go pretend to be rested.” Tsireya’s hands moved quickly but gently, smoothing the ceremonial fabric into place around your hips. The rich indigo wrap clung just right, held firm by a braided belt adorned with mother-of-pearl and carved beads shaped like droplets of rain. She adjusted the shell-lined shoulder straps, giving you one final glance before stepping back. “You look like you belong in the center of the circle tonight,” she said softly. “They’re going to see it too.” You looked down at yourself, polished, prepared, painted. Your skin was marked in subtle ceremonial patterns, barely visible unless caught in the light. It wasn’t just a gathering tonight. It was your return. Outside the curtained doorway, you heard the murmur of familiar voices. Kiri’s soft laugh, Tuk’s small excited voice, Lo’ak speaking low. Another voice was there too, quieter but steady. Neteyam. You glanced at Tsireya. She gave a knowing nod. “Come on. Let’s not keep them waiting.”
You stepped out into the open air of the main space. The light was low, the warm flicker of woven lanterns casting gold across the walls. Just a few paces ahead, Neteyam stood with his siblings, speaking in a hushed voice. Tuk was hugging a small woven blanket to her chest, beaming. Kiri stood beside her, arms folded but smiling, eyes soft. Lo’ak nodded along as Neteyam said something you couldn’t quite hear. Then Tuk noticed you. Her eyes went wide, and she gasped softly. Kiri followed her gaze. Lo’ak turned. And then Neteyam did. His words stopped mid-sentence. His gaze locked onto you—his whole body going still. You watched his expression shift—surprise, reverence, and then something deeper settle into his face. His jaw tensed slightly, his throat bobbed as if he had to force himself to breathe. He didn’t speak. He didn’t have to. You crossed the space slowly, and as you reached the twins, you crouched beside them. Ayula let out a tiny coo as she stirred, her eyes fluttering open, and Niväk blinked up sleepily from the wrap of cloth that held him close. You kissed Ayula’s forehead gently, then Niväk’s, murmuring low promises you didn’t need to say aloud. Just long enough for them to feel it. Just long enough for you to believe you could leave them, even for a few hours. Kiri stepped forward and rested a hand on your shoulder as you rose. She didn’t say anything either, just gave you a steady nod.
Neteyam was already there when you turned. Closer now. His hand found yours, his touch grounding—warm, firm, careful. “You look like Eywa touched you herself,” he said finally, voice low and full of weight. “I don’t know how to stand next to that.” You raised an eyebrow, a half-smile tugging at your lips. “You’ll manage.” He didn’t let go of your hand. Tsireya and Lo’ak fell in beside you, Lo’ak throwing you a little smirk. “You’re gonna outshine everyone, you know that?” You shrugged. “Not my fault.” Tsireya laughed softly. “Let’s go. They’ll start the gathering soon.” And so, the four of you walked out beneath the wide night sky, your feet brushing the sand and stone path as lanterns swayed above. The sea whispered behind you. The pulse of drums waited ahead.
The firelight from the main bonfire cast gold over your skin, the shimmer of your ceremonial clothing catching every flicker. You stood near a curving reef wall not far from the lounging area, where Jake, Neytiri, Tsireya, and Lo’ak had settled for the evening. Neteyam had stepped away just moments ago to get you something cool to drink — barely ten paces away — but it was long enough. “Damn,” came Aonung’s voice, loud and unbothered, “I knew you cleaned up nice, but this? You look like something Eywa carved just to drive us insane.” You turned slowly, already unimpressed. “That line’s older than your braid.” He grinned. “Didn’t say it had to be original to work.” Before you could respond, Rakan approached more smoothly, his tone lower, more charming. He was one of the warriors who did the trails with you, coming in second place. “Ignore him,” he said, eyes sweeping over you with appreciation. “You look… breathtaking. Like moonlight caught fire.” That made you blink, and, despite yourself, a laugh slipped out. “Okay… that was better.” Aonung groaned. “Oh, come on. That’s what gets a laugh? I bring passion and honesty and get nothing?”
“You bring volume,” you muttered. Rakan smiled, stepping a little closer — but respectfully. “It’s the truth. If Neteyam weren’t already stuck to your side, I’d be chasing you every chance I got.” Aonung crossed his arms. “I am chasing her. Every chance I get.” You rolled your eyes. “Which is why you’re still single.” Aonung laughed. “That’s just because I haven’t caught you yet.” Rakan laughed at Aonung’s bad attempts at making you laugh. “She’s way too fast for you.” Aonung pointed between you and Rakan. “Look at her. She’s glowing. Powerful. Strong. You could probably knock me flat with one kick, huh?” You smirked. “Probably.” He grinned. “That’s hot.” Just then, Rakan tilted his head. “Honestly, though? I don’t know how Neteyam doesn’t explode every time he looks at you.” Aonung nodded, grinning like an idiot. “Right? He’s holding the sun and acting like it’s a torch.” You raised a brow. “It was a little dramatic.” Rakan shrugged, stepping slightly closer—but not overstepping. “For you? Worth it.” Aonung leaned in too. “Let’s be real. You need someone who can keep up. I could carry you out of here and still win a fight after.”
“She could carry you,” Rakan muttered. You fought another laugh, and Rakan saw it, eyes lighting up. “See?” he said softly to you alone. “That smile’s worth the teasing.” And that’s when Neteyam saw it. From the distance — just a few steps away, drink in hand — he slowed. His eyes caught the scene like a snap of thunder: Aonung puffed up and posturing, but you were angled slightly toward Rakan, smiling. Laughing. Not at Aonung’s antics. Not uncomfortable. But warm. A little flattered. Neteyam’s jaw ticked.
Over on the lounging mats, Lo’ak noticed immediately, elbowing Tsireya subtly. “Uh-oh.” She followed his gaze, eyes widening. “Oh, no. Neteyam saw it.” Neytiri looked up next. She didn’t say anything, just tilted her head, eyes narrowing slightly as she watched her eldest son pause mid-step. Jake chuckled quietly, not even looking. “That posture means someone’s gonna regret opening their mouth.” Tsireya leaned in closer to Lo’ak. “Do you think he’s more jealous of the flirting or the laughing?” Lo’ak grinned. “Both. But mostly the laughing. He’s territorial.” Back near you, Neteyam closed the distance in silence, stepping up behind the two males just as Rakan leaned in with another low compliment. “Honestly, if you were mine, I don’t think I’d ever stop looking at you.” Without hesitation, Neteyam cut in — voice low and cold. “Good thing she’s not yours.” Both Rakan and Aonung flinched slightly as they turned. Neteyam handed you the drink without looking away from them, slipping his arm around your waist with casual finality. “Neteyam,” Aonung said with a laugh, raising his hands. “Relax. We’re just talking.” He tilted his head, eyes still on Rakan. “She was laughing.”
“She laughs when she’s amused,” Neteyam shot back. “That doesn’t mean you’re funny.” Rakan straightened slightly. “I wasn’t trying to take her. Just complimenting something beautiful.” Neteyam’s voice was sharp. “Then go compliment a rock. You’ll have better luck.” Aonung laughed. “Stars. He’s in rare form tonight.” You glanced up at Neteyam, catching the tightness in his jaw, the tension in his arm still wrapped around you. It wasn’t anger. Not really. It was possessiveness, hot and focused and entirely for you. Rakan looked at you one last time, softer now. “Didn’t mean to step on anyone’s toes.” Neteyam’s eyes flicked to him. “Try it again and I’ll make sure you land on your back.”
Lo’ak snorted from behind you, failing to hide it with his palm. “There it is.” Jake sighed through his teeth, sipping from his cup. “Smooth. Real smooth.” Tsireya smiled, watching with her chin on her hand. “It’s kind of sweet how unhinged he gets for her.” Neytiri gave a soft, knowing hum. “He doesn’t see anyone else when she’s in the room.” The two warriors backed off — Rakan more gracefully than Aonung, who rolled his eyes dramatically before leaving. Neteyam finally turned to you, his jaw still tense, but his eyes softening. “You okay?” You nodded, pressing a hand against his chest. “Are you?” He huffed a breath, the edge finally cracking. “I hate when they make you laugh.” You smirked. “It was one line. And it was funny.” He dipped his head closer, lips brushing your temple. “Then I’ll be funnier.” You smiled, fingers slipping into his hand. “You don’t have to be. You just have to stay right here.” His grip tightened like a promise. “Always.”
After that flare of tension with Rakan and Aonung, Neteyam hadn’t left your side once. Still, he’d softened again, his hand resting lightly on the small of your back as you spoke with one of his old sparring partners and another hunter you vaguely recognized from training. They’d congratulated you on the birth of the twins, teased Neteyam for “finally settling down,” and it was all warm and lighthearted again. Until the music changed. The beat slowed, mellowed — the drums fading under the breathy rise of wooden flutes and the rhythmic snapping of palm fronds. The crowd around the bonfire shifted. The laughter eased into something quieter, more reverent. Couples began to step out into the ring: not for a showy dance or ceremonial display, but something slower. More intimate. Neteyam leaned down to your ear, voice gentle. “Dance with me?”
You looked up, smiling at the softness in his eyes, all the fire from earlier melted into warmth. “Of course.” He reached for your hand, lacing his fingers through yours, and pulled you into the circle. The two of you moved together easily, not touching much, but always near. He circled you slowly, mirroring your steps. His gaze never left yours. You could feel the weight of it even when you turned your back or moved a few paces away. When your hands did meet again, palms brushing in the firelight, it was like the world shrank down to just that touch. “I missed this,” he said softly as you turned. “Dancing?”
“No,” he said. “You. Smiling like this.” Your chest tightened. He wasn’t talking about the smile you gave the others, not the polite kind, not the one you wore during conversation. He meant this smile. The real one. The one that only rose when your whole body relaxed. “Then don’t stop giving me reasons to,” you whispered back. He spun you lightly. “Never.” Your bodies moved with the slow rhythm, feet bare, steps easy and familiar. The energy of the celebration pulsed around you, but here, in this little pocket where only he existed, everything felt calm. “You’re staring again,” you murmured, your voice low and teasing. Neteyam smiled lazily. “Can you blame me?” You rolled your eyes, even as your fingers toyed with the beads tied into his ceremonial armband. “Yes. I’ve been in this outfit for hours. I’m definitely not at my best.”
“You were at your best the second you stepped out of that room earlier,” he said, lowering his head until his forehead rested against yours. “I almost didn’t let you leave.” You grinned. “Almost?”
“I’m trying to be less possessive.” You leaned up and kissed the corner of his mouth. “Hmm, you’re doing a decent job.” You danced a little longer, until the drums slowed and finally gave way to the gentle hush of night. Around the fire, clusters of family and friends lounged with half-eaten fruit platters and warm chatter. You and Neteyam eventually drifted to join them — settling onto a woven mat beside Jake and Neytiri, who’d taken turns teasing you both about how quiet you’d been lately. “Because they’ve been too busy sleeping whenever the babies do,” Neytiri said knowingly, sipping from a carved shell of fruit water. “I remember that dazed look. It means exhaustion.”
“She’s still sharper than most of us,” Jake muttered, tilting his head at you with a grin. “Saw you handle that hunter from the reef clan earlier. What’s his name? Roka-something?” You snorted. “Rakan. And I didn’t handle him. I just… didn’t entertain him.”
“Mhm,” Neteyam hummed, smirking as he handed you your drink. “Handled.” Time passed in slow waves — the music drifting into softer melodies, the conversations mellowing. Lo’ak and Tsireya had disappeared at some point during the last hour, but neither of you really noticed or cared. It was too peaceful. Too grounding. Every now and then Neteyam would touch your hand, or your knee, or just glance your way with that quiet, affectionate look that only he had — the one that said: I’m glad you’re here. I’m glad you’re mine. But after a while… your body started to ache. Not in a painful way, just the deep, steady fatigue that came from birthing twins, dancing in ceremonial clothes, and being away from your children for the longest time since they were born. You leaned into Neteyam’s side, your voice soft. “I miss them.” He didn’t ask who. His arm slid around your shoulders without hesitation, drawing you in as he pressed a kiss to your temple. “Let’s go home.” Neytiri smiled as she caught the exchange. “Already?” she asked gently. You nodded. “I think I’m full. Of music, firelight… everything for tonight.” Jake chuckled. “You earned it.” Neteyam stood first and reached down to help you to your feet. He didn’t rush you, didn’t say a word, just held your hand as you said quiet goodbyes.
The walk back to the Sully mauri was quiet — not in the way silence sometimes feels uncertain, but in the way it does when two people are so full they have no need to speak. The moonlight followed you across the pathways of woven coral and bark, your steps light, your body already leaning toward home. When the entrance curtain rustled aside and you stepped into the main space, you felt it immediately. Stillness. No soft baby sounds. No gentle lullabies hummed by Kiri. No rustling or whispering between the sisters. The twins’ little sleep space had been cleared entirely. The woven cradle was gone, the folded cloths they usually slept on vanished. You stopped walking, brow furrowing in confusion. “Where are they?” Beside you, Neteyam let the curtain fall back into place and offered the smallest of smiles. “They’re nearby,” he said, voice quiet. “Safe.” You turned to face him, still confused. “With who?” His gold eyes glinted as he took a step closer to you, the space between your bodies vanishing with one easy stride — the height difference pulling your chin up slightly to meet his gaze. “With our brother, his girlfriend and our sisters,” he said. “In a small mauri just next to this one. Lo’ak and Tsireya set it up with Kiri and Tuk earlier tonight. I asked them to.” Your eyes widened slightly. “You… planned that?” He nodded once. “Every bit of it.”
A breath caught in your throat. “Why?” He didn’t answer with words at first. Instead, he slipped his hand into yours and gently led you toward the private corner of the mauri — your room, the one you’d made yours over the past months. The woven wall parted quietly as you stepped through… and everything felt different. The moment you crossed the threshold, your heart paused. Your room had been transformed. Soft glowing lanterns hung from the upper beams, casting a low amber light across the moss-lined floor. New bedding had been arranged — the familiar woven layers beneath but now shaped into a gentle circle padded with sea-cotton and fresh blossoms. Strands of pale shells and beads from your favorite dive spots hung like starlight from the ceiling. The air smelled like wildflowers, salt, and him. Along the far wall, someone — probably Kiri, had traced quiet spirals in coral powder and pearl dust, sacred symbols for unity, eternity, and Eywa’s blessing. A little shell basin in the corner flickered with bioluminescence, casting dancing patterns of light across the walls like the ocean’s surface at night. Your breath caught. “Neteyam…” He stood behind you now, silent for a moment. And then, his voice came, low, sure, close to your ear. “I wanted us to have this,” he said. “Not just to celebrate what we’ve already done, but to finally do what I’ve wanted since before the trials. Before the twins. Before everything when we were still in the cabin hiding from the world.” You turned to look up at him. He stared down at you with a warmth so deep it made your knees weaken. His hands lifted to gently cradle your face, fingers brushing your cheeks with reverence. “I want to be your mate. Officially. Your husband before Eywa.”
“No more waiting,” he whispered. “No more halves. No more being yours in pieces. I want all of it. You. Me. Our family. Our bond.” He took a slow step back, golden eyes never leaving yours, and reached for his queue. You mirrored him. Your hands found your braid, fingers trembling just slightly as you pulled it forward. No hesitation. No fear. Only love. He dropped to one knee, gently, eyes still on yours, not out of tradition, but out of devotion. And when your queues touched and Tsaheylu was formed. Everything surged.
In an instant, you felt him, and he felt you. Not just emotions, but everything. The way your heart trembled with love for him. You leaned down hands holding you up against his shoulders like the feeling made you drunk in love with him. The memory of him weeping in the sand before your first trial. The fluttering joy when you felt your babies kick for the first time. The quiet ache of fear you carried during recovery. Your unwavering need for him. And he — oh, Eywa, he was a flood. His pride. His awe. His hunger to protect you. His joy. His worship. His love, not gentle, not soft, but absolute. Wild and permanent. When you opened your eyes, your breath shook. Neteyam stared at you like you were the center of the world. “I love you,” you whispered. His hands were already cupping your thighs before you finished the sentence, hand squeezing the flesh, like you were something sacred, like you weren’t real. “I feel it,” he murmured, forehead pressed to yours. “I feel everything.” You gasped softly, stunned by how overwhelming it was, how you could feel him even in the places your body didn’t touch, how his love curled inside your chest like it had always lived there.
Then, before you could speak again, he stood up and his lips found yours. The kiss wasn’t careful. It was desperate and loving and real, threaded with everything he felt through the bond. It was all-consuming. You melted into him, your hands at his chest, his arms around your waist, but it wasn’t just physical. It was deeper. You could feel how much he missed you even when you were near, how badly he’d wanted this moment, how long he’d waited to give you everything, finally, without fear or hesitation. His lips moved against yours like he’d die if he stopped. And you kissed him back with the same fire.
His kiss deepened, his hands sliding up your back like he couldn’t decide whether to hold you tighter or just feel as much of you as possible. His breath hitched when your fingers curled into his hair, and through the bond, you could feel it, the ache, the hunger, the way your desire lit something wild in him. When he finally broke the kiss, it was only to drag in a shaky breath. His forehead stayed pressed to yours, his voice low and hoarse. “Eywa… I can’t stop touching you,” he murmured. “Every time I do, it just makes me need more.” Your smile was soft, but your eyes were molten. “Then don’t stop.” That was all he needed. Neteyam’s hands dropped to your waist, and he pulled you close, chest to chest, hips brushing, your heartbeat tangled with his. He kissed along your cheekbone, your jaw, down your neck, each press of his lips slower, firmer, as if he was memorizing every inch. You sighed, tilting your head to give him more, and his fingers flexed against your hips like he was grounding himself.
“You have no idea what you do to me,” he whispered against your throat. “I feel everything. You want me… Ewya, you want me so much—” You gasped, warmth flooding through you, and he groaned in response, the sound rolling against your skin, he took a breath. “Your heart racing. The way my voice makes you burn. The way you tremble when I kiss you here—” His lips grazed the spot below your ear, and you whimpered. “And here—” He kissed the hollow of your collarbone, and your knees went weak. “Neteyam—” you laughed breathlessly, your voice already shaking with heat. His hands slid around to your back again, firm and wanting, and he pulled you against him so there was no space left between your bodies. “You think this is funny?” he growled softly, but he was smiling too, voice unsteady with love. “You think teasing me when I can feel everything is fair?”
“Maybe,” you teased, your voice a breathless whisper. He chuckled, a low, raw sound that curled straight through you. “Then I guess it’s only fair,” he murmured, “if I show you exactly what you do to me.” And slowly, with his eyes never leaving yours, Neteyam began to lower you down onto the soft woven bedding below, his touch reverent and urgent all at once, like he was both worshiping and claiming you.
His kiss broke only long enough for him to gasp your name like it was the only thing anchoring him to the world. Then, low and guttural, his voice rasped “Off. I want it off. Now.” You blinked, breathless, not from fear, but the command in him. The heat in his eyes. “Demanding,” you teased, just to see how far you could push him. His mouth twitched into something darkly amused. “You like teasing me?” he growled, voice rough with disbelief. “You’ve been teasing me; every breath you take drives me insane.” Before you could reply, his hands were already on you, firm, worshipful, but not waiting. He tugged at the wrap around your chest like it offended him, jaw clenching as it came free. The fabric dropped to the floor with a soft whisper, and he leaned back just enough to see you.
And then he stared, chest rising and falling like he’d just surfaced from underwater. “Fuck,” he breathed, voice caught somewhere between reverence and ruin. “Look at you. You’re everything.” Your breath shook. You felt it in the bond, the way his desire curled inside him like lightning, crackling and alive. It wasn’t just lust. It was hunger. Need. You tilted your head, cocky and breathless. “What, surprised I still look like this after giving you twins?” That was a mistake — or maybe not. His eyes flared, golden and sharp. He leaned into you again so fast you gasped, hands sliding down up back, rough and reverent all at once. “Don’t joke like that,” he snarled softly. “You don’t know what it does to me.” You laughed, breathy, dizzy from the bond and run your fingers against his braid, weighting the response. “I think I do.” He pressed his forehead to yours, breath ragged. “You’re mine. Not just now, forever. You feel that? You feel what you’ve done to me?” And you did. Every shudder of need. Every thread of wild, possessive love twisting through the bond. His hands slipped lower, thumbs hooking at the waistband of your loincloth. His voice dipped lower, almost cruel in how tender it sounded. “I’m not asking again.”
You giggle and bite your lip before tugging in the knot, loosening the loincloth. Neteyam didn’t waste any time ripping it away from your body and the cool air hit your core sending shivers through you. His lips were against your neck making the bruises he started on even deeper before he moved down to your full tits. You weren’t sure what he would do since you were still breastfeeding, but you definitely weren’t expecting his next move. His fingers slid up your stomach to one of your milk-filled tits and squeezed it. The beads of milk dripped down, over his fingers and down the side of your ribs to the bedding below and you moaned.
Neteyam paused for a moment, his lips on the skin between your tits and his hands cupping them both against his face, they were a bigger handful now than before. His eyes met yours like a predator that knew he won the chase. Your breathing was uneven and shallow. Neteyam could already feel it, he already felt what his little action had done to you, but he never taught you’d get so worked up from him drawing a little milk. “That felt good?” He asked just to confirm in a low, husky voice. You didn’t answer right away but his thumb came back to your nipple brushing the swollen nub and your moans spilled into the quiet and Neteyam breathed it in like it was air. His eyes darkened, chest pressed close as if he needed to feel everything, not just your skin, but the way your body arched under his hands, the way your breath hitched just from his touch.
Neteyam chuckled darkly before darting his tongue out and licking up the mess he made on your skin before circling it with quick, small actions with his tongue. He groaned against your flush skin feeling through the bond and your pretty mewls how good he made you feel. Neteyam sweetly marked his way down your body until he made it to your thighs. Neteyam’s hands gripped your thighs like he owned them, thumbs digging into the soft skin as he spread you open just a little more. His eyes burned as they dragged over you, slow and full of dark hunger. When he spoke, his voice was low, rough, wrecked. “Look at you…” he rasped, leaning in, lips brushing the inside of your thigh. “Already shaking—and I haven’t even started.”
You whimpered, and his tongue flicked out, tracing a path up your skin. He groaned at the taste, his breath hot against you. “You’re driving me mad, baby.” Your fingers tangled in his braids, and he let out a low sound—half growl, half moan. His voice dropped even lower, thick with lust. “You’ve been in my head for days. All I’ve been thinking about is how soft you are right here… how you sound when I have you like this, how much I wanted you.” You arched, and he chuckled under his breath, eyes flicking up to yours. “You like that? Hm?” His mouth ghosted closer, just enough to make you gasp. “Tell me,” he growled, lips brushing where you throbbed. “Tell me you want it.” When your voice caught in your throat, all you could do was moan out, “I want you tey…want you so bad.” That was all he needed. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment, like just your voice, your scent, your heat had undone him. “Fuck,” he breathed, voice husky and strained. “I’m not gonna stop ‘til I ruin you.”
Neteyam pressed a sweet kiss on your clit before his tongue invaded your cunt. You let out a loud squeal, you weren’t expecting the slaughter he was about to commit between your thighs. His tongue circled your clit multiple times making you involuntarily buck into his face; your hands slid into his hair tugging at the braids. His mouth sucked in your bundle of nerves which made your thighs tighten around his head, your legs feel over his back and down the side of his body holding him against you. He flicked his tongue with sharp burst of intensity, sending jolts of pleasure up your cunt making you arch off the bedding below. “Eywa, you’re so wet..” he growled against your skin making you vibrate with pleasure. You tried to speak, wanting to express how good he made you feel but your words got chocked up in your throat when you tried.
“Ahh!” You gasped when his long tongue speared into your dripping cunt, your back arched sharply. Hands finding purchases on his arms, shoulder, the bedding then back to his hair, you didn’t know what to do, what to hold onto. “Oh fuck yesss,” you moaned into the air. His fingers moved down to your cunt, using his thumbs to spread your folds open so he could get his tongue deeper, and your eyes roll back. Neteyam didn’t let up for a second, plunging his tongue in and out, it was electrifying. So much so that your back arches up completely thighs tightened even more around his head as your entire body besides your head lifted off the bed.
Neteyam lifted onto his knees with your body, so he didn’t have to pull away, his hands splaying beneath you against your back to keep your body lifted off the bed. His grip tightened as he growled, low and possessive, “that’s it baby…just like that,” his words send ripples up your cunt, his voice was husky and dark with heat, almost wrecked from the bond surging between you. You gasp and your grip on his body became tighter, your nails dug into the skin of his shoulder and you other hand gripped his hair and he felt it, ever flutter, every desperate clench and pulse inside you. And still, he didn’t stop, didn’t even slow down. A strained moan escaped him into your cunt, like he was barely holding himself together, the bond crackled like fire between your chests.
Your tail wrapped around his bicep after it lashed around a bit beating against his tone chest to help ground yourself. Your gasped, half moaning his name and he pressed deeper, hungrier, greedier like he was chasing every last tremble in your body like it was the only thing that mattered. One of Neteyam’s hands slides down to your ass holding you firmly, then he moves, his other arm pushing your body up and over his head now holding your weight on his shoulders suddenly you were weightless. You gasped at his sudden movement, your eyes widening and your voice came out as a broken scream while your grip on his tightens even though you knew neteyam would never let you fall. He turned and dropped like he didn’t care how hard he hit the bed and landed in his back his grip remained on your body until your knees sank into the soft bedding. You were cradled over his face, thighs straddling him. His mouth was possessive, hungry. And the motion was fluid, instinctive, like it was practiced, like he knew all along he’d end up beneath you, consuming you like a worshiper.
Your hands leave his body and hit the wall now in front of you as he moans, low and rough. The sound vibrating through your core. This metkayina training really did something with his ability to hold it breath, it was unreal. His younger somehow reached even deeper than it was making your clench sucking him in even more. His voice came out hoarse and hand broken. “Ride it baby.” He spanked your ass making you yelp which turned into a moan. His hands moved you’re your hips, thighs, ass, rubbing along your curves as he encourages you to grind on his tongue. But you didn’t waste anytime pushing your body weight all the way down and onto him, your head rocked back as you stared to grind on his face.
You were messy, hair sticking to your forehead from sweat, fingers digging into the wall as you used it to push yourself back and forth on his face. His tongue still snug in your cunt and his nose bumping your clit so perfectly it made your eyes roll back. You trembled and cried out his name above him. And he doesn’t falter either, his hand switching from running along your curves to slightly pulling on your whipping tail since he knew how much you liked it when he did that. “Just like that baby…don’t stop.” He whispered against your cunt.
Your head dropped and you saw him, looking up at you like you were divine. Riding him felt like fire curling under your skin, hot and slow. The deeper you sank into his touch the more your body lit up. Nerves flickering with pleasure until it was impossible to tell where your control ended and where your instincts took over. His hands gripped your body like he didn’t trust himself to let go, like he might come undone just from watching you. And you felt it through the bond, his hungry, his helplessness, the way he was trying not to lose it while you took him in again and again. Your breath caught as your hips rocked forward harder, deeper. The sensation wasn’t just between your legs, it was in your spine, in your lungs, radiating up through your chest until you were moaning without meaning to. You swore you could feel his moans in return, low and reverent, pulled from somewhere deeper than just desire.
“Look at you,” he whispered, voice cracked and husky. “You ride me like you were made for it baby.” And you did. You felt made for it, for him. Every brush of his hands, every breathless curse against your skin, every broken groan when you clenched around him, it only drove you harder. You were high on him, on the bond, on the heat and the rhythm and the way you could unravel each other just by moving in sync. When your head tipped back, your whole-body trembling, he reached up, not to slow you, not to guide, but just to touch, to worship, as if needing to ground himself in the reality that you were his. And you were. Completely.
Then suddenly you started to feel another amplified sensation that overpowered the others. The rhythm of his mouth didn’t stop, if anything, it deepened, dragging you higher and higher until the pleasure felt like too much to hold. Then something shifted through the bond. A sudden jolt, not yours. A hot, tight ache, raw and overwhelming, rushed through you like a second heartbeat pounding under your skin. You gasped softly, dizzy, and twisted to glance over your shoulder. That’s when you saw it. Neteyam’s hand was between his legs, working himself with hungry, almost frantic strokes. His chest rose and fell beneath you, breathless. His mouth never left you, but you could feel it in the bond, his restraint was crumbling. He was drowning in you. A startled little laugh slipped from your lips, breathy and warm. “You just couldn’t help yourself?” you whispered, voice teasing, shaky with pleasure.
You felt the response before he even moved, his grip on your thighs tightened, and he groaned low, his mouth dragging a little slower, deeper, sending sparks all the way up your spine. Then he spoke, voice thick and hoarse, hot against your cunt. “Why don’t you look at me and try saying that again.” Your breath caught. Not loud. Not angry. Just quietly dangerous. A velvet command wrapped in heat, like he was giving you a chance, just one, to surrender completely. To let him show you that you weren’t the only one who could tease. The bond surged again, that rough edge curling through it, his desire, yes, but also his intent. He wasn’t just desperate for you. He was about to remind you who you belonged to.
You turn back and look down at his half-exposed face, his eyes were daring but drowning in pleasure, you bit you smile with a smile and opened your mouth to speak, “couldn’t help yourself mighty warrior?” You giggle breathlessly. His eyes rolled back as you sped up your pace, he knew you were close, and he wanted nothing more than for you to gush in his mouth so he let you grind on his tongue harder and faster, slapping the flesh of your ass for your little smart comment. It hit you like a crashing wave, overwhelming, and blinding in its intensity. Every inch of you tightened, then released in a rush that left your limbs trembling and your chest rising in frantic breaths. It wasn’t just pleasure, it was being undone in the most beautiful way, like something inside you had been waiting for this moment and finally, finally let go.
Your body arched without thought, nerves alight, skin fevered. Your eyes were teary as you became undone above him. The scream ripped through you before you could catch it, breathless, broken and loud. It wasn’t a sound you made from having any control. It was dragged from somewhere deep, like your body couldn’t contain the feeling any longer. It echoed in your ears, but you barely registered it, too lost in the haze, in him. Through the bond, you felt him take it all in. The way it shook you. The way you clung to the feeling. His reaction wasn’t words, it was a storm of emotion flooding through you: possessive, reverent, hungry. That he could bring you to this. That he had.
His hands grip your hips like he owns you, steady and sure, sliding you off his face without a word. He sits up and pulls you close, lips brushing against yours with a soft, relentless hunger. “You’re fucking irresistible,” he breathes, voice low and rough, almost a growl before he kisses you. It was a deep, smearing kiss, you tasted your essence on his tongue as he effortlessly took dominance in the kiss. Your arms wrapped around his neck ready to straddle him, but he wasn’t about to let that happen. His right arm wrapped snug around your waist spinning you on the bed to put you on your knees in front of him. Neteyam's chiseled abs glistened with sweat as he lifted himself over you, his sculpted chest hovered above your face, those stunning golden eyes burning into yours with primal hunger. "Open your mouth," he commanded, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine. "I want to feed you."
You eagerly parted your lips and Neteyam slid one of his large hands beneath your chin, tilting your head back slightly. He raised higher bringing his massive cock in line with your mouth. With the other hand, he grasped the throbbing, veiny length of his erection and brought it to your mouth. The engorged head nudged against your plump lips insistently. "Suck," he growled, slowly pressing forward. You had no choice but to accept his thick cock into your warm, wet mouth, not that you minded either way. It stretched your lips wide as he inched further in, the sweet taste of his arousal flooding your taste buds. The moment your lips closed around him, Neteyam’s breath hitched, sharp and low, like the sound was dragged from the base of his spine. His hand slipped into your hair fast, fingers threading tight, not yanking, just anchoring. His head tilted back, a curse falling from his mouth before he growled your name. Through the bond, his pleasure hit like a crashing wave heat, hunger, awe. But underneath it was something deeper. Possessive. Reverent. Almost angry with how much he needed you.
“Look at me,” he ordered, voice rough and shaking. You obeyed, eyes lifting, and he groaned like he could feel it everywhere. “That’s it… just like that.” His hips flexed slightly, slow but deliberate, not to control your rhythm, but to show you who was still in charge. His thumb brushed the edge of your jaw, breath ragged. “Pretty mouth… made for this,” he rasped. “You feel that?” His voice cracked on the end, raw with pleasure and disbelief. “That’s mine.” And through Tsaheylu, you felt how much he meant it, not just the act, but you. All of you. The claiming, the worship, the bond burning hotter with every breath. And he didn’t look away. Not once.
It wrecked him the way you moved, the way you didn’t shy away. Heat coiled low in his spine, spreading like fire as your lips wrapped around him, slow at first, then deeper, hungrier. His jaw tensed. His fingers dragged up into your hair, not guiding, just holding like you were the only thing anchoring him. A ragged breath left him. “Just like that,” he groaned, his voice strained and low, like he’d been holding back for too long. “Fuck… you’re perfect.” Your tongue swirled, your mouth relentless and he cursed under his breath again, hips stuttering once despite his effort to stay still. He could feel you through the bond, all that bold affection, the focused heat, and it turned the pleasure into something deeper. Something molten. Reverent. Then your eyes flicked up glossy, tears threatening the corners and he nearly lost it. “Look at you,” he breathed, wrecked and almost reverent. “Taking me so well.”
His grip in your hair didn’t falter, but his breath hitched subtly, like he didn’t mean to let it out. He tilted his head back just a little, lips parted, golden eyes fixed on you with something feral and soft all at once. “F-fuck—” he cursed under his breath, voice dropping rough and low. He tried to speak again, but your mouth worked him too well, and the next word caught in his throat. When he found it, it came out ragged. “You’re—fuck, you’re too good at this.” His fingers twitched, stroking your cheek with a tenderness that contradicted the tremble in his thighs. He breathed deep, grounding himself, like he needed the weight of you to stay steady. “Look at me,” he murmured, trying to sound in charge and mostly succeeding, though his voice cracked slightly on the last word. You glanced up, lips wet, eyes wide, and he groaned through clenched teeth. “Shit, you’re so beautiful like this. Cryin’ for me and still taking it.” You watched his jaw clench, his control fraying at the edges. “I’m—” he paused again, chest rising like a wave cresting. “Don’t stop— don’t fucking stop.”
Your head bobbed up and down on him sucking on his tip before chocking on his length making you gag. His hand started to control your movements slightly speeding up the pace. You could see above you he was losing it, it was beautiful. The way his head rolled back, and his eyes squeezed shut, but not for long since he didn’t want to stop looking at you. You saw the way he bit his lip when you rolled your tongue round his cock head. It was electrifying, and tenfold through the bond. “F-fuckk yesss tsafya kalin 'eve…” (like that sweet girl) Neteyam stuttered out in a haze. His words caught your attention. You knew he was close now. Neteyam had a habit of slipping into his mother tongue when he was about to cum, and you wanted nothing more than to swallow his load.
“Tsafya ma muntxatan?” (Like this my husband). You pull off his cock just enough to take in a breath and whisper up at him. His tip still pressed against your lips as your breath hit it in effort to catch your breath before going back down on him. You barely finished the last word in Na’vi when his breath hitched, and his eyes snapped to yours, blown wide, wild with heat and something deeper. His hand flexed hard against in your hair like your voice physically struck him. His lips parted. Voice low. Rough. “You speak like that and expect me to stay gentle?” A beat passed. His thumb brushed your cheek again; his gaze locked on your mouth. “Say it again.”
“Muntxatan.” You murmured the word once more, softer this time. His response came fast whispered, wrecked: “Sänrr—what you do to me…” (Fire) Then, in English, almost like he needed you to understand every part of him, “You drive me fucking insane.” Neteyam used his grip and pulled you off his cock and you gasp loudly and pant to catch your breath; your lower face was slick with your spit from how messy you sucked him off and his cock was connected to your lower lip by a string of spit. “What are you—” you start, wanting to know why he stopped you from making him cum. He didn’t answer right away, his eyes were heavy-lidded, chest rising with shallow breaths as he looked down at you, one hand already curling around your waist.
Then, low and rough, almost like he had to force himself to stay gentle, he said. “Because I want more than your mouth, kalin. I need all of you.” Your confusion melted into a flush of heat as he lifted you easily, guiding you up with both hands, still breathless from your surprise, but the bond between you buzzing with intensity. The way he looked at you then, like he was claiming the moment, left no room for questions. His voice dropped lower as he settled back against the pillows of the pretty bedding, eyes never leaving yours.
“Come here. Ride me.” The way he said it wasn’t a request. It was a command. His pointer and middle finger beckoned you closer, with a ‘come here’ motion and you were drunk, entranced. Barely caught your breath but there you were on all fours crawling up to him, slow and sexy like a predator. Neteyam couldn’t take his eyes off you, the way your skin sparkled like stars in the low light, the way your curves moved so perfectly as you came to him like a hunting Thanator, like you were prowling.
Every step you crawled closer, your tail moved like it had a mind of its own, swaying in rhythm with your hips. Your spine dipped just enough to accentuate the shape of your back, the round curves of your body, glowing freckles tracing a trail down your sides like constellations. In the dim light, your golden eyes caught his, bright and sharp, feral and beautiful. Neteyam sat still, breath shallow. His gaze followed every movement, slow and hungry, like his eyes were starving for you.
“Eywa…” he breathed, but it sounded more like a curse than a prayer. “You look…” His voice dropped into a whisper, “…so dangerous like that.” His voice would drop, thick with heat “You’re not playing fair, baby.” You see his throat flex as he swallowed hard, trying to keep his composure. But that predator-prey tension would flip something in him, quick. He’d sit up slightly, legs spread, hand flexing against his thigh, fighting the urge to grab you before you made it all the way.
But he doesn’t he lets you come to him, eyes dark and hungry. The moment your hand touches his leg, or your face lifts up to meet his, he’d probably chuckle low and rough. “What are you trying to do to me?” he’d murmur, his fingers already sliding into your hair, tugging just enough to tilt your head. “You want to hunt?” he whispers, leaning in close. “Then catch me, txe’lan.” (Heart) Your tail flicked again, sharper this time and he exhaled like he felt it in him. You got closer, eyes half-lidded, and his gaze darted between your mouth, your hands, your tail still moving like it had a mind of its own.
You slowly make your way up his body, a hand on his chest pushing him back to lay down as you moved with him to hover over him. Your right legs had shifts up knee on the side of his waist to bring you closer and your left slotting between his legs. You moved down and his head tilted back instinctively before you lean down and kiss him, deep and slow. Your tongue invades his mouth like you were in control, but you knew he was letting you have the moment. His hands slid up your thighs to your waist over your hips then back down. His right hand even spanked your ass making you gasp in his mouth. You broke the kiss but stayed low with your lips on him, “caught you.” You whispered out with a giggle before moving down to his neck to kiss him making him groan.
Neteyam had done a great job marking you up when it was his turn, but now it was yours. your lips brushing that sensitive spot just beneath his jaw, where his pulse jumps. The sensation stole the breath from his lungs. Then he exhales sharply through his nose, jaw tightening. A low, almost involuntary groan rumbles in his throat. He tilts his head just a little, giving you more access, not because he’s passive, but because he wants to feel it, wants to let you do that to him. And when your lips linger there, maybe with a soft graze of teeth, you feel his fingers tighten on your thighs, grounding himself.
Your lips latch down sucking sweetly in his skin making marks that would definitely be visible tomorrow. You could feel the way his eyes shut and his breathing stutter in the bond, they way he wanted you to do whatever you wanted to him. You move to straddle his lap your cunt now directly sat on his length and he groaned. Your hips dragged along his length as you assaulted the skin around his collarbone, and he was about to lose it. You’re grinding slow, dragging your hips over him with just enough pressure to tease, just enough to make him lose his rhythm.
He groans low in his chest, both hands locking onto your waist, fingers pressing into your skin like he’s trying to stay calm… but failing. “Stop playing with me,” he murmurs, voice rough, breath hot against your neck. His golden eyes are darker now, dilated and burning. “You know what I want.” You smirk, just a little against his skin and roll your hips again. He growls under his breath, then sits up slightly, his chest brushing yours as he tightens his grip. “Ride me,” he says, tone husky but clear. “Properly.” His hand comes down hard on your ass making your tail switch and you let out a loud moan next to his ear. “Rutxe… heyn sìn oe set.” (Please… sit on me now)
You bite your lip and raise off his length reaching your hand between your legs to hold him up then you lowered yourself, slow and deliberate. His cock stretched you out like it was the first time all over again. You can’t believe you went so long without letting him fuck you, cause now you’re about to go crazy. Then quieter, almost in a whisper, lips brushing your ear, his hands move up and down the sides of your body “Take me like you mean it.” The moment you give in, give him what he’s been craving, he exhales like he’s been holding his breath for hours.
His fingers tighten around your ass, as if grounding himself through the sensation of you. “Finally…” he murmurs, almost like a prayer, voice low and wrecked, heavy with hunger and tension. It’s not just relief, it is obsession, awe, and possession wrapped into one word. His eyes trail down taking in the way your cunt sucks him before his eyes lift to yours, glowing with heat and something dangerously soft. He doesn’t smile. He stares, drinking in every line of your body, the sway of your hair as you start to move on him, the press of your skin against his and your soft moans that fill the air. The bond surges, thick with the weight of everything you both have been holding back.
“Look at you,” he breathes, a touch of reverence in his tone. “Moving like that… for me.” His voice deepens, rough and full of heat. And when your pace draws another moan from his throat, he lets it happen, not bothering to hold back now. One hand slides up your spine, firm, dragging you closer. You wrap your arms around his neck holding him close to you and he sits up sending his cock deeper into you. Your movements still as you let out a broken moan, adjusting yourself you start moving up and down again on his huge cock, Neteyam held you close, gripping your ass, helping you move on him.
Your lips brush his every time you come down taking him all the way until he had enough of the teasing and kissing you. You could barely kiss him back, mewling in his mouth. “Good girl, just like that,” Neteyam stuttered out between kisses. You already felt your thighs getting tired, but he felt so good like this you didn’t wanna stop, Neteyam knew, felt it through the bond and decided to help you. His big hands started to raise your body off his cock and back down onto it. Speeding up the pace. Your fingers dig into his shoulder, and you throw your head back.
Neteyam leaned back on the pillows once more and bucked his hips up into you. You bite your lip to stop from being too loud, “I want to hear you baby, every sound you make.” He said when he saw you, and your eyes rolled when he hit that perfect spot in you. His fingers dug into your ass, and you tail whipped in the hair as he fucked you. You could barely think, “faster—” you moaned out to him, you were so close already and he showed no sign of stopping. Your hands moved to rest in the pillow on both sides of his head and you started to fuck him back. Your mind was blank with pleasure. Neteyam chucked at your obvious drowning in the feeling of his cock. “Fuck baby…harder…come on. Give it to me. Take what you want.”
His right hand found its way rooted into your hair and he pulled your head up making you scream out. “Oh…don’t stop pleaseeee.” You stretch your words screaming them out, “I’m gonna cum…” you whisper into the air, your vision got blurry, and your jaw was slack noises escaping without resistances then he started to fuck harder. Feet planted onto the bedding now fucking up into your harder that before. It made your body bounce above him and you were loving it. “Come on baby, come on my cock...” Neteyam said breathlessly. The coil inside you twisted tighter, then snapped loose with dizzying release with a curdling scream. Neteyam kissed your neck as he fucked your through your high, “that’s it baby, fuckkk.” He groaned against your skin.
His hands slid up and down your thighs and ass, slow and steady, eyes locked on yours like he already knew what he was going to do. “Move for me,” he said lowly, breathless, and deep, but leaving no room for question. You barely had time to react before he was already shifting, one strong arm wrapping around your waist as he turned the both of you with effortless control. The motion was fluid, practiced, like he’d been holding himself back just to do this on his terms. Now above you, he settled his weight just enough to make you feel it, gaze heavy, lips brushing yours without quite kissing. The way he looked at you then, intense, sure, claiming, made your breath catch in your throat. Neteyam’s hands slide down your thighs, firm and deliberate. He pauses just long enough for you to catch the shift in his breathing, low, steady, but focused.
Then, without a word, he leans forward and wraps his arms beneath your knees. His grip is strong as he lifts your legs, guiding them up with ease until they rest over his shoulders. The stretch of it makes your breath hitch, and the press of his body keeps you grounded beneath him. His weight dips closer, folding you inward with him. You can feel the muscles in his arms tighten beside your hips as he settles into the position fully intentional, controlled. He doesn’t rush. He just holds you there, golden eyes locked on yours, his body pressing close enough that the warmth of his chest and the heat of his breath are all you feel. When he finally speaks, it’s low, husky and unshaken. “Right where I want you.”
With your legs draped over his shoulders and his body pressed close, your vision is filled with nothing but the fall of his braids thick, ink-dark strands swaying forward as he leans over you. You can’t see his face, only feel his breath ghost across your skin. You reach up, fingers weaving gently through the strands. He stills for a moment, breath catching not in surprise, but in attention.
You pull the hair tie from your own braid, looped around your wrist, and without a word, gather the upper half of his braids and tie them back, away from his face. It’s not rough, but intimate in its simplicity. When the last loop is secure, you meet his eyes for the first time since he shifted over you. His gaze is molten. A small, crooked grin tugs at his lips, and his voice drops to a rough murmur, almost amused but laced with heat. “That for you, or for me?” Then, leaning in just enough to brush his forehead against yours
“For me…but I’m sure you’re not complaining about having a view.” You smile up at him and giggle softly. Neteyam chuckled along with him before leaning down to give you a soft kiss. Neteyam’s fingers thread through your hair as his lips parts just a little, inviting yours to follow, and the kiss deepens, slow and deliberate. Each movement is careful, savoring the taste, the feel, like he’s memorizing every inch of you. You hear the slight hitch in his breath as desire stirs beneath the calm surface.
His hips shift up and down rubbing his cock against your clit making you squirm and moan against his lips, you were folded in half right now you couldn’t move even if you wanted too. Your hands grip his shoulders as he pulled back lining up his cock without pulling away and slowly pushing in. He curses under his breath at the warmth that engulfed his length. “Oh…f-fuckk” you let out a broken moan from how deep he was at this angle when he bottomed out and grunted.
It’s not just the physical closeness that intensifies the bond, it’s the vulnerability. With your legs pushed up and held against him, Neteyam isn’t just above you, he’s inside you and around you everywhere, all at once. His forearms cage your head, your hands gripped his biceps, and your chests brush with every breath. But the tsaheylu? That’s where it truly ignites. The connection doesn’t just link thoughts; it drowns you in emotion. You feel his restraint like a taut wire pulled to its limit, the primal urge he’s holding back, and the reverence that keeps him gentle.
Every beat of his heart pounds through the bond like thunder in your ribs. And then, suddenly, a shift like a soft burn beneath your skin. You feel him unravel. Not just physically but emotionally. Awe. Desperation. Possession. All of it washes through the bond like a tide, stealing your breath. Your name repeats in his head like a prayer, but even without hearing it aloud, the bond sings it to you. And when you look into his eyes, he’s not just watching you, he’s inside the way you feel, your pleasure bleeding into his own, crashing and folding in one shared, electric ache.
Through the bond, his thoughts pour into you like warm honey, slow, deep, and molten. He isn’t speaking aloud. He doesn’t need to. The connection between you is too thick, too intimate now. And in this moment, his mind is entirely wrapped around you. You feel it instantly. Desire, but not the fleeting kind. It’s the kind that roots itself in the bones, the kind that makes him tremble with restraint even as he presses closer, folding you beneath him like a secret only he gets to keep. “Great Mother…look at you.” He breathes the thought, not with reverence alone, but with ownership, a quiet, aching pride that blooms deep in his chest. “All mine, all of you… soft and spread wide, flushed, trembling under me.” You feel the way he sees you: your body arched and offered up, glowing in the low bioluminescent shimmer, your skin kissed with light, your eyes hazy and fixed only on him.
Your chest rising into his, thighs gripping his sides, your braids trailing beneath you. “You were made for this. Made to fit against me like this.” There’s a hunger in the way he notices everything, how your hips curve, how your thighs feel against his chest, how your tits are pressed together so pretty from the way he holds you exposed, how your breath hitches when he holds you tighter, how your mouth parts in the smallest gasps just for him. “No one will ever see you like this. No one will ever know you like this.” And that possessiveness? It coils tight in his gut, but it’s not jealous, it’s devotional. You’re not a prize. You’re his match, his other half. But still, seeing you like this, willing and open, golden-eyed and glowing, makes something low and feral stir in him. His cock drags along your cunt slowly, feeling the heat radiating off you. “Look at the way you let me have you. Fuck— what did I do to deserve this?” Then softer, like a whisper folded between heartbeats, “you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Oeyä txe’lan… you ruin me (my heart).
You feel like your about to explodes, his thrust had progressively sped up but not how much you wanted it like he was teasing you. Your cunt fluttered around him as you took in his thought, the feeling of his body, the bond, everything. You wanted him to fuck you until you physically couldn’t make a sound and him feeling it through the bind wasn’t enough for you. “Fuck me…fuck me.” You said breathlessly body squirming to get more of him as if you could, your fingers dug into his arms, his back no doubt leaving scratch marks, “ma Neteyam…fuck me harder.” The shift is immediate. Subtle at first, his hips drawing back just a touch farther, his movements beginning to build in power and precision.
Like instinct taking over, like something deeper than thought guiding him now. Where before his pace had been careful, reverent, it becomes deliberate. Driven. His body moves like he’s answering a call only he can hear—like your desire is fueling him, setting the rhythm in his veins. Every motion lands heavier, more grounded, his body rolling into yours with a purpose that feels almost primal. His chest brushes yours with each breath, muscles tightening as if trying to hold back, but the bond tells you he doesn’t want to hold back anymore. He wants you to feel it. All of it. Each thrust knocks the air out of you with sweet sharp sounds echoing in the room, even out the window you were sure if someone passed, they’d know exactly what was happening in here, and you knew Neteyam’s possessiveness would never want you to quiet down.
You were practically melting into him, relaxing into hold, his thrust fucked you so good you swear you already started to see stars. As your legs tighten around him and your toes curled in the air, even your tail intertwined with him between his legs, his pace only answers back, faster now, the rhythm chasing a fire you’re both stoking together. When he feels the warmth spread across his skin, his gaze drops instinctively. Seeing your milk glistening there, fresh and soft against you both, something wild flickers in his eyes. He can’t move his hands that are tangled in your braids or maybe he doesn’t want to, but his mouth doesn’t need permission. His head dips, and the moment the warm droplets touch his skin, something in him snaps, low and deep.
A guttural breath leaves him as he leans in, tongue dragging slowly through the mess you made, tasting you like he’s starved for it. “Fìtxan tsìltsan… can’t even think straight.” (so good) Then, quieter murmured like he’s unraveling: “You taste like you were made for me.” And still, he doesn’t stop. He can’t. He’s lost in it, nose brushing skin, mouth open, chasing more. Not speaking now, only panting. Desperate and dazed, like nothing exists outside the mess you’re making together.
Neteyam was pounding into you so hard now you couldn’t think straight, your entire body rocked with his powerful thrust, legs trembling in the air. You couldn’t even catch your breath, it felt like the whole room shook with his thrust, “T-Teyam…I can’t—too much..” you stutter out as he knocked the air out of you. Neteyam’s eyes were everywhere, any part of your body he could see, his eyes locked on yours taking in your fucked out expression and sweet sounds he literally knocked out of you. “Oh sevin…you’re doing so good for me. Taking my cock so good,” his tone was husky, rough as he dragged it from his throat.
His hands moved from your hair to hold your thighs beneath your knees spreading you even further open, he raised his both slights and fucked into you even harder. “Ahh—” you started screaming, jumbled words about how deep his cock was and how good it felt, how much you couldn’t take it along with screaming his name. And you had no words in you to describe how you really feel even though he felt it through the bond. You were so close, so close to your release you wanted him to fuck you through. Your cunt sucked him in, no matter what incoherent words you’re you threw into the air, he was determined to fuck you until you couldn’t remember anything but him. “Good fucking girl…scream for me, say my name.” He groaned down at you, “gonna come sweet girl? Gonna make a mess on my cock.” You couldn’t even answer, trying to suck in air but before you could form words, he knocked it out. Your eyes rolled back, toes curling until they were cramping and your fingers must have been drawing blood from his back. “Fuckkk, gonna cum—” You scream and repeat the phrase over and over, even drowning out when he replied to you, but you felt his words in your cunt, “cum baby…cum for me…cum on this cock. Lemme see you milk my cock.”
His body bend down his face just inches from yours so he could swallow up all your little screams. For a second, it’s like the world stops moving with him. His arms tighten, his weight sinks just a little more into you, forehead resting against yours, his chest heaving once… twice… Then a low sound escapes him, not quite a groan, more like a broken moan dragged from somewhere deep. And you feel it, not just the warmth of his body, but the way he shudders, like something inside him just gave out. “Shit…” he mumbles, voice wrecked and quiet. “So fucking good—” His fingers tremble where they press into your thighs. He doesn’t say much more. Just presses his mouth to your shoulder and breathes you in, eyes shut tight like he’s trying to come back to himself, but you’re still holding him there, soft and flushed and real beneath him.
You’re both still catching your breath, tangled and flushed, when Neteyam’s hand finds yours. His fingers are a little shaky, but he brings them to his lips anyway, pressing a lazy kiss to your knuckles like he’s trying to ground himself through the touch. He’s quiet for a beat as he pulls out of you with a hiss and lays beside you. Then, with a breathless laugh: “…Are you alive?” You let out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a whimper. “Barely. You short-circuited something in my brain.” His eyes crinkle with a sleepy grin. “Did I?” he asks, clearly too proud of himself. “Thought I felt you go a little boneless.”
“You shook the whole room, Neteyam.” He groans softly, dragging a hand down his face in mock guilt. “Yeah. That might’ve been me. Sorry.” “You’re not sorry,” you mutter, nestling into the crook of his neck. “No,” he agrees shamelessly. “I’m not.” Then, gentler, “Are you okay, though? I didn’t…” His voice dips, genuine concern peeking through the haze. “Was I too much?” You shake your head, lips brushing his throat when you turn and snuggle into his arms. “You were perfect.” Neteyam huffs out something between a laugh and a sigh. “You wrecked me,” he says, voice rough again, but softer now. “I swear, I’ll never move again.” You nudge his chest playfully. “Liar.”
“Truth,” he counters, eyes fluttering closed. “You looked so good underneath me I forgot my name for like… a full minute.” You start laughing, muffling it against his skin. “That’s not my fault.”
“It kind of is,” he hums, kissing the top of your head. “You make me a mess. Can’t think straight when it’s you.” You lift your head just enough to see his face. “Even now?”
“Especially now.” He reaches out and tucks a loose braid behind your ear, his thumb brushing your cheek. “You’re glowing. Wrecked and glowing. Most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” You pretend to hide your face, and he just chuckles again, pulling you closer. “Don’t hide from me,” he murmurs. “I want to remember you like this forever.” You softly smile and kiss his chest, “I don’t think we’ll be forgetting anytime soon even if we wanted too.”
The next morning, the soft sound of babies crying filters in from the main space of the marui. You stir first, your body still aching in that sweet, hazy way. Neteyam shifts behind you, arms tightening instinctively around your waist. His chest is pressed to your back, skin warm, slow breaths brushing your shoulder. The flap rustles. Kiri pokes her head in, her braid slipping over her shoulder and a wicked grin already forming on her face. “Okay,” she says, voice low and amused. “I knew you’d be slow to get up, but you two look like you were dragged through Eywa’s roots.” You open your eyes halfway, barely able to lift your hand to reach for the tiny, fussing bundle in Kiri’s arms. “Come here, baby girl,” you murmur, taking Ayula and curling her gently to your chest to nurse. You stay on your side, eyes slipping closed again, your body still boneless, satisfied. Neteyam groans softly behind you, stretching just enough to flash a grin at Kiri. “Dragged? I’d say carried.”
“Oh, please,” Kiri scoffs. “We heard things.” Then Lo’ak’s voice, already full of judgment. “Bro, what the actual—” He stops short in the doorway, holding Niväk in his arms. His gaze locks on the bruises dotting your skin and the smug, very unbothered look on Neteyam’s face. Tsireya walks in behind him, but when she catches sight of you two, her cheeks flush a bright teal. “Eywa…” Lo’ak shifts the baby and groans. “You’re both glowing. Disgustingly.” Neteyam smirks, propping himself up on one elbow, his toned chest on full display. “You think she’s glowing now? You should’ve seen her last night.”
“Neteyam,” you mumble under your breath, hiding your smile in Ayula’s soft hair. Tsireya snorts, trying to hide her grin, and Neteyam just keeps going, eyes flicking to her and Lo’ak with practiced mischief. “Folded her in half,” he says casually. “Like a reef leaf.” Lo’ak nearly drops the baby. “Bro!” Neteyam holds a hand out for Niväk, who Lo’ak hands over. “And she took it like the fiercest little warrior,” Neteyam adds, voice warm and low as he tucks Niväk against his chest. “Didn’t even beg me to stop. Not once.”
“Shut up,” you mumble, trying to glare at him through a sleepy smirk. Tsireya blushes furiously. Kiri groans into her hands. “You’re so annoying,” Lo’ak mutters, but his tone is all exasperated affection. “I swear, if you wink at my girl again—” Neteyam does exactly that. A sly wink at Tsireya. “I mean, if she ever wanted to know what it feels like to be loud at night and glowing in the morning…”
“Neteyam!” Tsireya gasps, though she’s giggling too hard to be actually offended. Lo’ak glares. “You’re done. Put a sock in it.”
“You’re just mad,” Neteyam shrugs, “because your girl’s already curious.”
“I will launch you into the ocean this time, we not doing my brother steal my girl act again,” Lo’ak threatens, though he’s trying not to laugh as he ushers Tsireya out by the shoulders. Kiri pauses at the flap and glances back at you, smiling fondly. “You okay?” You nod slowly, eyes closed, Ayula nursing quietly. “Perfect.”
“Good,” she says. “I’d say ‘take it easy today’ but… I don’t think that’s possible with him.” Then she ducks out. The room goes quiet again. You shift closer, Ayula dozing now against your chest. Neteyam’s already curled around Niväk, who sleeps like nothing happened. “You didn’t have to say all that,” you mumble with a smile. “Didn’t I?” he murmurs, nose brushing your cheek. “You were too pretty not to brag about. And gods, you’re even prettier now.” You laugh softly, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. Outside, the soft voices of your family drift through the marui, but inside, it’s warm, quiet, and full of lazy, lingering joy.
Two weeks later, you’d barely opened your eyes before your stomach flipped. You groaned quietly, already knowing what was coming. Slipping out of the woven sleeping mat beside Neteyam, you moved to the edge of the marui pod. You barely made it before vomiting again, your body trembling with the effort. Behind you, you heard stirring. Neteyam’s sleepy voice was muffled by blankets. “Ma yawne… again?” He sat up, concern lining his features. You wiped your mouth, forcing a weak smile. “It’s fine.”
The rest of the Sully family had been watching this unfold for days. By the time you returned to the mat and curled beside Neteyam, Tuk was already whispering something to Kiri. Lo’ak let out an audible sigh. Neytiri, crouched in the main area with Jake beside her, exchanged a pointed glance with Ronal, who had clearly just been invited over without your knowledge. Ronal said calmly, brushing into the space. “You’ve delayed long enough.” You groaned and tried to roll away, but Neteyam gently pulled you against him, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Just let her check you. Please.”
“I’m fine,” you mumbled, but no one looked convinced. With little patience left, Ronal pressed her cool palm to your stomach, then her forehead to yours. Her voice was quiet but absolute. “You are with child. Again.” The room fell silent. You blinked at her in disbelief. “What?” She gave a curt nod. “One this time.”
Your eyes slowly slid toward Neteyam. His arm was still wrapped around your waist, but his expression froze the moment he met your gaze. You felt the frustration bubble up. “You—” You pointed at him accusingly, voice sharp but more disbelieving than angry. “You got me pregnant again?” Neteyam’s ears flicked back, his eyes wide. “I—” He looked like he’d flinch, but then leaned forward, cupping your cheek gently. “I didn’t mean to, I swear. I just— You were so beautiful. I lost control a little.”
Jake bit back a snort. “A little?” Lo’ak let out a low whistle. “Bro. The twins aren’t even crawling.” Tsireya blushed, but she smiled anyway. “You two do look… very happy.” Kiri folded her arms, eyebrows raised as she teased, “You’re glowing. Again. Literally, and not from joy.” You stared ahead blankly, exasperated. “I just got sleep back. Just started walking around without crying. I thought we had time.” Neteyam, still clinging to you like he could protect you from your own uterus, murmured into your shoulder, “We do have time. We’ll be okay. I’ve got you. We’ve got this.” You sighed, but your body leaned back into him anyway, already feeling your anger melt beneath his warmth. Neytiri, brushing your hair gently behind your ear, smiled. “You’re strong, my daughter. You’ve done this before. You’ll do it again—with all of us beside you.” You closed your eyes, groaning softly. “You’re all too calm about this.” Neteyam kissed your temple. “Because we’ve got you. Always.”
The room is finally quiet. Outside, the faint hush of waves rolls up the sand. The woven walls filter the morning light, leaving shifting patterns across the floor. Neteyam lies behind you, warm and still, his arm draped over your waist like it’s instinct, like he’s not even thinking about holding you close, it just happens. You’re both on your sides now, tangled in the quiet, facing the open doorway where the rest of the family had gathered just an hour earlier with wide eyes and too many opinions. Your stomach still feels unsettled, but not from nausea anymore. Neteyam’s voice breaks the silence, low and close behind you. “You haven’t said anything since they left.”
You exhale slowly, eyes half open. “Still trying to decide if I should be mad or just… overwhelmed.” He paused, then his hand shifts over your stomach, palm gentle. “You can be both.” You let out a short laugh. “That’s not reassuring.” He leans in, nose brushing the back of your shoulder, voice quiet. “I just… keep thinking about how beautiful you looked that night.” You scoff, a little blush blooming at your ears. “Beautiful?” Neteyam chuckles softly. “Yeah. I mean—gorgeous. Glowing. Sexy as hell.” You turn slightly, just enough to glance back at him. “You’re ridiculous.” He lifts his head to look at you properly, smiling, eyes soft.
“Maybe. But I’m also right.” He brushes your hair from your face. “You’re still glowing, you know. Still sexy. Even right now, all pouty and annoyed with me.” You bury your face in the blanket, laughing quietly. Neteyam nudges in closer behind you, hand still on your stomach, his thumb brushing slow circles. “It’s just one baby this time,” he says gently. “That feels like mercy, doesn’t it?” You nod against the blanket. “Feels like Eywa’s trying to be funny.” He grins. “Well, she’s got a sense of humor. But I’m not complaining. You gave me everything I ever wanted and somehow, you’re still giving me more.”
You go quiet again, but this time it’s not frustration, it's something tender, something wordless. You reach back, threading your fingers through his. He squeezes once and leans in to kiss your temple. No more teasing. No more panic. Just the two of you breathing in sync, the weight of something new settling between your ribs, something a little terrifying, and still, somehow, beautiful. One of Neteyam’s hands is cradled against your belly, the other wrapped around your waist like he’s still afraid someone might take you from him again. But you’re not going anywhere. Not after everything.
Not after he lost himself, not in war, but in grief. After he tried to replace you in someone else’s eyes, only to find it was never you. Not truly. Not the soul of you. Not the fire that loved him back when he was bleeding and healing. Not the woman who prayed to Eywa to save him, pulling him back from death. And still, when the delusion shattered and the truth hit him like a tidal wave, he came for you. He returned to that cabin broken, desperate, and humble. And you opened your arms. You always would have.
Because you didn’t just wait, you healed. You survived the agony of him not being there for months, then remembered what you were capable of. You stood at the edge of the ocean, stared into the mouth of death, and passed the Trials of the Three Tides, bloodied, nearly broken and pregnant. You came back each time, silent and fierce, your body bruised and your soul blazing. And when Neteyam saw you standing victorious on the final day, the sacred scale still dripping in your hand, he wanted to weep like a boy who had finally come home, you felt it in his muscles as he held you close.
You remember feeling the relief and love as well, you did all that for him. Now, months later, your twins sleep soundly nearby. Neteyam’s face is buried in your hair, his voice thick with sleep and something far deeper when he murmurs, “You’re still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” You hum softly, the smallest smile curling your lips. “You said that when I had seaweed in my braids and a broken rib.” “And I meant it,” he breathes, pressing a kiss to your temple. “But now? With our baby in you again? You’re glowing. Strong. Dangerous. And so, Goddamn sexy.”
He lifts his head just enough to find your eyes, his gaze softened by a reverence that never quite left after that night he almost lost you. “I love you so much. Oel ngati kameie,” he whispers, like a vow renewed. You blink, breath catching with the weight of everything those words carry. Everything you both survived, the heartbreak, the cabin, the trials, the birth, the loss and finding of yourselves and each other. “Oel ngati kameie, I love you more ma Neteyam,” (I see you) you whisper back. And you mean it. With every heartbeat. With every scar. With every breath in this wild, sacred life you’ve built together. Because after all of it, you’re still his. He’s still yours. And you wouldn’t change a thing.
🩵I hope you all enjoyed reading and if I forgot to mention anything please let me know! I hope you all liked it and I appreciate all the love and support I’ve gotten for it!
🩵Reblogs, comments, likes and feedback are all appreciated and welcomed!
The avatar fandom is one of those places where you have about 5 months around the film’s release where there is like 20 fics a minute and then complete radio silence until the next film releases 2000 decades later.
𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 instead of heading to the reef clans, jake sully takes his family to search for the herwìslär clan, the snow people. despite her cold demeanor that rivals that of the weather outside, neteyam cannot help himself upon falling for the olo'eyktans daughter. only you seem to not want him, and he cannot understand why.
ᶜʷ cannon divergence, rude(?) reader, yearning, my baby lo’ak being an ass for a minute, sharing a bed(kinda), ‘i dont want ninat’ vibes, reader and neteyam are lowk jake and neytiri 2.0, misunderstandings, tshaeylu, suggestive content, angst?(happy ending), a child
ʷᶜ 12.6k
A fresh hunt meant there was much to do.
Every part of a kill was to be used. It could be detrimental to the people if even a single part was discarded. In the harsh conditions of the frozen taiga you called home, every part of a kill must be used.
You were stood over a square frame, currently tying a fresh pelt onto it. After tightening each side multiple times to ensure that the pelt was pulled to its max, you began shaving away at the various layers of fat.
Proper technique must be used when shaving the fat away. If you angle the knife improperly you may tear through the pelt, rendering it useless. Yet the motions are calming to you, it being something you’ve done for many years.
Various other clan women are also completing the same tasks, idle chatter falling around you. Many are pleased with the result of this hunt, some gloat over the kills their mates or children have made, a few congratulate you on the kills you made today as well.
The corners of your lips tilt upwards, a pleased grin settling on your cheeks. As the Olo’eyktan and Tsahik’s oldest child duty settled heavy on your shoulders. A good hunt today meant that the clan would be happy for at least a week, which meant that your parents would be happy for the week, so you could also be happy for the week.
“I heard you killed the largest her’ang today,” Posma whispered next to you. Your ear flicks, as the words take form in your head.
She was correct to hear that you had killed the biggest her’ang, but you did not say that to anyone. You would never boast about such a thing.
“Who said that?” Your hand pauses in its motion as you turn your head, refusing to slice without eyes on your target.
Posma giggles at you, she is one of your oldest friends, the two of you being together since you could only toddle along the furs. “It does not matter. You should be proud.”
“Being proud is not becoming.”
“It’s not unbecoming!”
You huff, “There is a fine line between being proud and being pompous. Most toe the line, I do not desire to do such a thing.”
You turn your head back towards your work. Shearing the last few pieces of fat from the pelt you sheath your knife. Due to its curved shape you must tie it before you can move onto your next task.
As you’re scooping your curved fingers into a jar filled with salt Posma continues, “You would not. It would not deter anyone if you were to take some satisfaction in your accomplishments.”
“Focus on your duties Posma.” You flick your tail in her direction, trying to shoo her away, “We can participate in such discussions later.”
Your fingers splay the salt in a decently thick coating across the pelt. It must be enough to thoroughly dry the pelt, but it cannot be too much where the pelt cannot breathe. A final glance across the entire pelt leaves you with the conclusion that you can leave it for the night and check upon it again tomorrow.
You turn to leave, wanting to know how the rest of the preparations of the kills are going. But you make sure to call out to Posma one more time before you leave, “You will sit next to me tonight?”
Her cheery reply follows less than a second later, “Always!”
Hometree and most of the clan's establishments resided underground, deeply embedded into the ground. It was much warmer there than temperatures outside, but furs and pelts were still required if you desired to be a comfortable temperature while walking around.
You move towards the outer areas of the village, wanting to see if every kill has been brought in yet. However on your way there a shot of your name makes you still in your path.
It is Huamtey who calls you. One of the clan warriors, one that you were out hunting with just earlier today. “You must come, I cannot find the Olo’eyktan.”
“My father is missing?”
“You misunderstand, I believe he is tied up with other duties and I cannot find him.” Huamtey grimaces a little, nervous of your reaction to his miscommunication, “The sentries said they are hearing foreign wails, I was hoping the Olo’eyktan would lead the search.”
“But I am the next best thing?”
“You are mighty. We would be honored if you guided us.”
A smile graces your lips as you nod. Whatever beast resided outside the village gates, you and this search party would slay it. Whatever it was would not harm your people.
As you emerge from the gates, you raise your hand in greeting to the sentries. Then you lay your eyes upon the group. It is small, only eight of them, but it would do. You had killed big predators with less people.
A deep call resonates in your throat, but your lips stay sealed. You repeat the call a few times, urging your mount to approach. In the distance you can see shifting between the trees, your legs carry you forward to meet it halfway. As you approach your herwanpalu a rough, loud rumbling emerges from deep in his chest.
He is happy to see you so soon. Your hand reaches out to scratch along his forehead eventually falling behind one of his ears. You saddle him, tightening the straps before turning back towards the group. “Let us go, it will be dark soon.”
It is hard to miss the yowls of the unknown creatures. They are sharp, and loud – one might assume that they were calling out, searching for something. But that would be a naive thought, there were only predators and prey in this taiga, and this thing would become prey whether it wanted to or not.
The calls lead the nine of you to the tundra. No trees reside here making it risky hunting grounds. But if the beast wanted to fight here, who were you to deny it?
You first scan the ground, searching for some large disfigured creature to be staring back at you. You find none, instead you see five shadows seemingly circling around. When you look up you see bright and deeply shaded creatures.
Ones that you’ve never seen before. They’re colors you’re familiar with, seeing them in the summer months, but they definitely do not belong here in winter. You start making motions with your hands, dividing and directing the group so you could circle them.
The members are to find a good angle, one that they can get a presumed clean kill shot from. On your mark they will take it, if you’re lucky all five will go down at once. An immaculate feat, one you would shortly be discussing over fresh meat at the cookfire.
The white of the pelts blends nicely with the herwanpalu furs, and their furs blend almost seamlessly with the snow. The flying creatures shouldn’t be able to see any danger until it is too late.
You raise your bow, aiming for the chest cavity of the beast. You can hear a hunting call come from your right, another from your left – it was time to strike. When your arrow sailed, theirs would fly too.
But then you falter. There is something atop the creature. Could it be mangkwan? No. They never ventured to these parts, it being far too cold for their hot nature.
“Hold!” You hiss, just loud enough for the group to hear. “Hold position, do not reveal yourselves. I will make contact.”
You dismount your herwanpalu, slinging your bow back over your shoulder and flipping your hood down. You shout, “If you wish to live, land your beast and surrender!”
The call triggers a response. At first the beasts begin banking tightly left and right, granting their riders better visibility to the land below. And then they descend and land.
You allow them to clamber off of their mounts, to come to stand before you before questioning, “Who are you?”
“We seek uturu.”
“Who are you to seek uturu?”
“I am Jake Sully, my mate Neytiri, and our children. You’re from the Herwìslär clan right?” His hands are upturned trying to seem like he is not a threat. You step to the side, eyeing his family. They looked to be cold, slightly huddled together, their animal hide cloaks doing nothing to shield them from the freezing tundra temperatures.
You’re skeptical. They may be trying to cause chaos, to destroy the clan from the inside out. The doubt flows entirely through your body, your tail lashing, ears pressed tightly to your skull. It triggers Neytiri to speak.
“My husband was Toruk Makto. He brought the clans together against the sky people.”
Toruk Makto? This man was Toruk Makto? That was not a name to be taken lightly, the stories of a great flying beast, the scariest thing in the sky; and the very few Na’vi who were able to tame it were named Toruk Makto.
If these Na’vi were any bit honorable they would not throw the title around. You could indulge them at the very least, bring them in and if they misbehaved take them as prisoners.
“Reveal yourselves!” Your voice booms out across the tundra. Jake Sully and his family flinch, surprised at the sudden burst of energy. Their heads whipping around at the sudden movement of the warriors around you.
Then you point, “You will follow me. And they,” Your hand changes direction towards the warriors, “Will follow you. Come.”
As you direct them back towards the village you can only imagine what your father will think. If he will believe that you made the right choice, or if he will be disappointed that you risked the safety of the clan.
You motion the sentries to open the gate, allowing you entrance to the village. One of the warriors runs ahead to go retrieve your father. You continue to bring the Sullys forwards, deeper into the village.
“Where are we going?”
It is Jake who speaks up. Apparently the only one with a voice in his family. You spare him a glance, seeing the apprehension clear on his face.
“To see the Olo’eyktan. He will decide your fate.”
That seems to settle him. Neytiri begins whispering something, keeping it low enough that even just a few feet away you cannot hear them chatter. It did not matter though, your father approached and their fates would soon be sealed.
Your father stands strong. If his furs did not differentiate him from the rest of the clan, then surely the necklace and beaded covering that rested on top of them would. The deep black tattoos in distinctive lines decorated his face more than others.
But if none of that directed the Sully's to who this was, then his presence must have. It commanded attention more so than others, leaving you nowhere else to look.
You take the last few steps to him as he opens his mouth to speak, “What is this?”
“They seek uturu. Apparently the father is Toruk Makto.” You meet his eyes briefly, before walking past him and turning to stand slightly behind him.
“Toruk Makto seeks uturu with us? The Herwìslär people?”
Jake nods “Yes. We will learn your ways, be helpful, right?” He turns, nodding to his family, encouraging them to agree with his statements.
“It will be tough, difficult to teach who has already been taught.”
“We can learn. We can adapt. We will adapt.”
“Then it is decided.” Your father steps forwards, reaching his arm out in the traditional Na’vi binding contract, “Toruk Makto and his family will receive uturu with us! Teach them our ways, and treat them as our own!”
As Jake wraps his hand around your fathers forearm, your father continues his brief speech, “You may learn with me, your mate with mine. My daughter will teach your children the ways. Nume nìwin.”
As they separate you rush to your fathers side. “Father. They are dark, they will easily attract attention when hunting.”
“Then you will give them extra pelts to cover.” He dismisses you easily, readily moving direct people to either help the Sullys to a kelku, or return to their prior duties.
“But look at their tails! They will freeze off when the winter gets harsher.”
“Pelts, again daughter.”
“And their eyes! The brightness will make it difficult to see when they leave the village!”
“You are to teach them our ways.” He turns, locking you in place with a pointed stare, “Do not make me repeat myself, and do not give more excuses as to how useless they will be without seeing their capabilities.”
You tuck into yourself. Abashed at being reprimanded and dismissed out in public, you turn back to the Sullys, “Come I will bring you to your kelku, so you may drop off your things. Then we will go get pelts so you do not freeze to death.”
Looks like you would not be sitting with Posma at the cookfire.
“Not like that.” You tug Neteyams hands away from the pelt and fur he is stitching together. You begin unstitching the progress he has made.
Neteyam is watching your movements carefully, “What was I doing wrong?”
His voice is curious – a genuineness to it that makes you want to believe that he truly wants to make it better.
“Your stitch would allow air to slip between the pelt and the fur. It would not insulate properly.” You take the needle crafted of bone from his hand and begin to stitch slowly, “When you stitch like this it traps the heat, pushing it back onto your body instead of allowing it to escape.”
You hand the coat back to Neteyam first, then the needle. He nods at you before beginning to stitch the same way you showed him. When you are content with how he is working you spare a glance at the rest of the group.
Posma and Tempat have joined you in your duties. They seem to be working well with the remaining Sully kids. Posma guiding Kiri and Tuk, while Tempat is stuck with Lo'ak.
Fur binding is one of the most essential skills that a Herwìslär member must know. It is something that you learn as a child. As if you were to get lost or stranded and cannot craft a proper coat you will freeze to death.
You wish you were hunting today. Or drying pelts. Even foraging would be more preferable. You truly wish you were doing anything else besides teaching remedial skills to mostly grown Na'vi.
Before your mind can drift Neteyam calls you softly, when you turn your head he hands over the coat again. “Did I do it properly?”
You turn it over in your palms. Visually the stitches seem good, like they will hold. Then you begin tugging roughly around the seams. If the stitching was bad, they would burst from your onslaught.
However, they don’t. You smile a little when you hand Neteyam his coat again, “It will hold. Good work.”
He smiles at that. Proud at being able to adapt like his father said, to make something of his own in a new clan, and maybe just a little bit at your smile. He has not seen you smile often since his family has arrived, and for him to be the cause of your baby blue cheeks raising to make space for the upturn of your lips makes satisfaction settle warm in his chest.
Lo’ak’s whine drags your attention away, “When are we gonna ride a mount?”
“Soon.”
“When is soon? We have been cooped up in here for days now.”
“Lo’ak!” Neteyam smacks the back of his head, “Apologize.”
Before Lo’ak can open his mouth again, you laugh a little. You suppose they must be feeling like caged animals, not seeing the true sky for many nights as the pelts they received on the first night were not well fitted for taiga exploration.
And you were just thinking about wanting to be anywhere but here. Itching to go outside and to have the fresh frozen air sting your lungs.
“Come, we can attempt to ride with your new furs.”
Lo’ak is smiling, but then he realizes you did not promise a ride. “Attempt?”
“Yes. Herwanpalu do not allow just anyone to ride.”
“So they are like ikran, one rider for one mount.”
Posma speaks then, “Not particularly! Some herwanpalu are more friendly, and they allow multiple riders. Others are possessive, even going to great lengths to prevent their riders from mounting another.”
Her light, happy tone helps settle the Sully children a little bit. If she mentioned it, that must mean that there are plenty of herwanpalu willing to allow them to ride.
As your small group emerges out of the gate and into the taiga in front of you, you begin grunting. The sound comes from the back of your throat, with your lips closed. Posma and Tempat follow you, making their own sounds.
“Each herwanpalu comes at a specific call.” You turn to face the Sullys as you explain, “We teach them their calls as cubs, when they are most impressionable. Some will answer when any use their call, others may refuse as Posma said.”
Your mount approaches. He circles you while purring, before turning to sniff at the air where the Sullys stand. Now that he has come, you begin a new call, urging another friendlier mount to come.
“This is Wi’tsin.” You pet his head lovingly as Tuk approaches, “He and I have been together many years. He is one of the more possessive mounts that Posma had mentioned.”
While he may have been possessive, Wi’tsin would not hurt anyone you showed favor to. He allows the Sullys to pet him, to feel the difference of his furs.
Tuk hasn’t taken her hands off him, she seems to be enamoured with the softness of him, “Can I ride him?”
“You may join me if your siblings allow it.”
She whips around facing Neteyam with a dragged out pleaseeee. You can see the fondness in his eyes even though his expression remains contemplative. But then he nods, “I suppose she is more experienced and it would be a better ride.”
He was right, it would be a better ride with you. No tumbling, or fighting for control. She would have a good time. So after you get everyone else settled, get them saddled up and positioned correctly on the mounts you tug Tuk up onto Wi’tsin.
“We will head to the lake, then return.” You motion your mount to move through the bond, “It is a simple ride, the perfect opportunity to learn the mounts.”
While the herwanpalu were not difficult mounts to ride, it was still new to the Sullys. They would need to learn the breathing patterns of the beasts. Need to learn how their paws felt pressing into the snow. How their ears were attuned to even the smallest critters, and their tails swished to allow them quick turns.
The first bit of the trek, you direct them to walk. To zig and zag through the trees, to feel the curve of the herwanpalu’s spine. To understand how swiftly they can move.
It goes about as well as you would assume. Lo’ak falls off on his first turn, telling the herwanpalu to move faster than you had told him to. He was unused to how to move his body in turn with the mounts, so when she dove to avoid a tree he flew off her back.
You show them that the mounts may also be used for climbing, demonstrating with Tuk and yourself upon a tree. It is then that Kiri falls off. On her recount she ‘misjudged how rough her mount would slam onto the tree’ and then the story shortly changed to being shocked at the feeling of the bark underneath the mount's claws course through her fingers.
By the time you make it to the lake the only one to not make a fool of themselves and take a tumble in the fresh snowfall is Neteyam. He took every motion with stride, moved with the mount as if they were one. He curved his spine on the sharp turns, and pressed himself into the furs and saddle while climbing up the trees.
“This is the grand lake. It thaws in the warmer months, allowing for free fishing and swimming.” As you monologue, you begin to walk out towards the center of the lake, “Most of it freezes during the winter, but we carve into the ice to allow for fishing. Would you like to try?”
“We know how to fish, zusawkrr olo’eyk
te.” Lo’ak laughs as if it is childish to assume they don’t know how to fish.
That they don’t know how to carve the ice. That they don’t know they must tie some twine to the end of their arrows. That they don’t know how important it is to angle properly, and strike as soon as they see their target.
So instead of helping them, you decide to let them figure it out themselves. Striding back over to Wi’tsin, you dig into a woven bag attached to his saddle. You place the serrated crystal knife into Lo’ak’s hand and gesture towards the ice at his feet, “Show me.”
It does not go well.
Lo’ak doesn’t carve deep enough the first time, so Tempat takes the knife and shows him how to properly carve into the ice.
You have to admit that he does take a good shot. His arrow is aimed well, sinking directly into his kill. But without any twine, there is no way to drag it back to the surface.
Lo’ak has been teasing you since the Sullys arrived. Trying to poke the right buttons. Attempting to break your composure. You assume comedy is his comfort, so it does not offend you.
But it does little to soften you to the Sullys. Still not believing they could be useful, that they could fully acclimate to your people.
Their ability to ride the herwanpalu does little to change your mind. If they wanted to survive here, they would have to learn this mount at the minimum.
Nonetheless you are pleased with their progress towards becoming competent.
Pleased that you are one step closer to not having to see them unless you desired.
It’s late, the cookfire nearly being diminished to embers.
A few weeks have passed since you taught him and his siblings how to ride their first Herwìslär mount. The rest of their lessons have been going smoothly since.
You had just allowed Neteyam and Lo’ak to join on their first group hunt. Tonight's dinner being partially the fruits of their labor. So when Neteyam approaches you, you decide to grant him a small smile.
He tries to smile back, it looks more like a grimace however, with how his eyebrows are pinched and his eyes are lost in thought. “You know I was a warrior with the Omatikaya.”
You nod, well aware of his past.
“I wish to become a warrior here too.”
It was not an outlandish thing to ask. He wanted responsibility, to prove himself in the clan. But it was risky; the Herwìslär final rite of passage being taming their own flying mount. You assume it also has something to do with how his mother and fathers txawuks have recently matured.
You must tame it while it is a juvenile, making the bond when it is still young. They are ridable from the time of taming, but it still takes a few months for them to reach full size.
It is of utmost importance to avoid the mother. Many Na’vi have passed from the trial; dying from the fall, succumbing to their injuries, or never returning after interacting with the mother.
“You are not ready. The txawuk are not forgiving.”
He shuffles into a seat next to you, “Ikran try to kill us as well. It is how we know we picked the proper mount, as they must also pick us.”
You run your tongue across your bottom teeth. Shaking your head lightly as you weigh your choices, as you debate Neteyam’s odds.
He speaks again when you don’t respond, “I am strong. You have seen me hunt, I am reliable. I can do this.”
“I cannot save you if something goes wrong.” You side eye him, “If you slip, if you are bitten, if you do not seal the bond, I cannot interfere.”
“I will not fail. My fingers will not lose their grip, and my reflexes will not slow.”
You click your tongue in annoyance. Neteyam was not giving this up, you would grant him his request if he completed a final test.
“You will hunt a her’ang tomorrow, without assistance.” You turn to face him, greyed out green eyes staring into his amber ones, “If you complete the test I will grant your request to complete your final rite and be welcomed into the arms of the people as one of us.”
Neteyam smiles then, it’s more boyish than you’ve seen him smile. A warmth blooms in your chest as you admire him, finally beginning to see him as one of the people. To allow yourself to view all possibilities of him.
“I will not fail.” Neteyam reiterates. Overjoyed that he’s so close to getting his wish granted.
You send him off to sleep then, informing him that it would be a long and tiring hunt and he needed his energy. You follow shortly after retiring to your own kelku.
In the morning you inform your father that you will be gone on a hunt. He reminds you that the winds shifted yesterday, that the skies in the distance looked to be gray with snowfall.
But you brush him off. You’ve hunted in storms before, been stuck out in the wilderness in even the harshest of winds and temperatures. And if Neteyam wanted to become a warrior in the eyes of your people, he would have to prove himself in all conditions.
So the two of you head out, dressed in the warmest furs, quivers full where they are attached to your herwanpalu’s, spare paint hanging from your tewng in case yours came off in the snowfall. The snow is light at the start of your hunt, coming down fast but not enough to obscure your vision.
You are only there to observe, to step in if everything goes terribly wrong. Neteyam leads, tracking the her’ang up a mountain. The tracking gets difficult then, old prints getting frosted over in new snowfall.
Maybe you underestimated the snow. It was falling heavier than you thought it would, and Neteyam was too stubborn to make camp earlier in the night when there was still light to aid you.
So you call out to him, hoping it reaches his ears despite the howling winds, “Neteyam!”
He turns to face you, his hood resting heavy over his forehead. He waits for you to reach him, “What is it?”
“We must find shelter.”
“But we are so close!”
Neteyam was always the responsible one of his siblings. Always the one to pull back before things could escalate so it made no sense why he would be so set on staying out in these harsh conditions.
“I know you cannot feel your toes! And that your fingers feel as if they will fall off even when tucked into your furs!” You’re peering at him through snow-crusted lashes, “There is a cave, in that part of the mountainside! I have rested there before, come!”
You don’t allow him to protest, directing Wi’tsin towards the cave. The two of you needed to get out of the snow as soon as possible. Needed to start a fire, and regain circulation in your phalanges before you lost them.
When you get to the deepest part of the cave Neteyam speaks up again. “I am sorry. I shouldn’t have forced us to go deeper.”
“Do not apologize.” You begin sparking stones together to start a fire, “Eagerness is nothing to be ashamed of.”
The two of you do not speak much. Neteyam thinking about how difficult it would be to find the her’ang in the morning, how if it continued moving in the storm he would never see it again. You debating how long it would be before you could return home.
As the night goes on the snow does not relent. It filters into the cave, resting softly in the mouth waiting to dissolve in the morning.
The chill in the air sends shivers up your spine. Even though you have experienced many overnight hunts, on most of them you had properly insulated shelters. If you did not, you at least did not have the snow blowing at you.
The furs and the fire do nothing to quell the nip in the air. Nothing to soothe the ache in your chest from inhaling the frozen air. You shift, unfurling from the ball you curled yourself into before peering at where Wi’tsin is.
Maybe you could curl up with him, allowing his furs to warm you along with your own. But you cannot bring yourself to call to him, he is huddled closely with Neteyam’s herwanpalu. The two of them sharing body heat to fight off the cold.
You suppose it was a good idea. That it could be a useful tool, especially if Eywa's creation was also partaking. So you call softly to Neteyam.
If he was asleep you did not wish to wake him, but you knew his sharp ears would pick up on your voice if he was still awake.
It takes a few moments, but he slowly shifts to face you. “What is it? Are you alright?”
“Are you cold?”
He laughs at the stupidity of your question, the breaths he heave fog up in front of you, “Yes. I am cold.”
“Would you like to…” Oh Eywa this was embarrassing. “Would you like to share body heat?”
“What?” Neteyam's disbelieved tone comes softly across the fire, the crackling nearly covering it completely.
“We can rest on your fur, or mine, and rest the other above us so that we can trap all the heat together.”
He nods, “All right.”
You shuffle over quickly. Ushering him to take off his fur as you toss yours on the stone ground of the cave. As he shrugs it off his shoulders you smooth out your fur and plant yourself on the left side.
As Neteyam settles on the right side he tosses his pelt over you, tugging it over himself until it rests comfortably over both of you.
He notices your distance. It's clear that despite being the one to suggest being close, you're trying to stay away from him.
Believing it to be because of him, he reassures you, “You can come closer. I do not mind.”
“No, it is fine. Just give it a few minutes. The heat will accumulate soon.”
Then your eyes are closing. Dismissing him as the slightest bit of heat settles around you.
It takes Neteyam a bit longer to fall asleep. He's been infatuated since the moment he first saw you after landing his ikran in the snowy plain.
The misty blue tone your skin had, and the slate blue stripes that seemed to wrap around your body in more wispy patterns than he had ever seen on someone from the Omatikaya.
The pattern your bioluminescent freckles made upon your face, some of them even gleaming brightly underneath the black paint you had plastered across your eyes.
The tattoo you had on your chin. One line leading seemingly from your mouth, down the middle of your lip and chin to where it ended somewhere between your jawline and neck. Two dotted lines frame the one solid line, following its path down your chin.
And now he's getting to see it all up close. To stare at you unabashed. So Eywa forgive him if he resists sleep for a while to admire.
Eventually his eyelids drift close from exhaustion. But the chill in the air does not stop just because the two of you are under the same fur.
Unconsciously, the two of you drift closer together; moving towards the warmth the other is emanating. You turn from facing him, your back now pressing into his front.
You wake slowly. Eyes blinking languidly as they try to scrunch to remove the crust that has settled on your inner eyes.
You don't recognize the warmth at your back at first. Assuming it is just from your heat getting trapped between the pelts. Then there's a soft exhale on your cheek.
Your body stills completely, eyes widening in shock, while you try to slow your own breathing so as to not startle whatever beast is looming over you. When you slide your eyes up towards the ceiling of the cave and spot nothing, a confused look graces your features.
Upon turning slightly, you're met with Neteyam's neck. It's then that you realize he has a grip around your waist. That your legs are tangled with his. And that his chest is pressed tightly to your back.
What had happened while you were asleep? How did you end up all the way in his personal space? Or did he inch his way into yours?
You shift to leave. Slowly untangling your legs, then you try to remove his grasp on your waist. In your shifting Neteyam stirs, grip tightening until you clear your throat lightly.
“Oh. I am sorry.” An indigo tint rises to his cheeks in embarrassment.
“It is fine. We must have shifted towards each other's warmth.” You want to sit, want to sling your fur back on and shrink back into yourself. But Neteyam is still lying down, still waking from his rest.
“You did not mind?” A slight upturn graces his lips.
A blush graces your cheeks now, “It was out of necessity.”
“Would you have minded if it had not been out of necessity?”
You huff. Sitting up despite the cold, allowing your skin to prickle at the temperature. “Focus on becoming one of the people, then you may ask me such questions.”
Neteyam moves as you do, quickly donning his fur and moving off of yours so that you may dress as well.
He hunts well that day. Tracks fast. Moving as one with the cold.
The bite in his lungs urging him to move swiftly, but not brashly.
When the two of you come close to the her'ang, you still. Using your mounts to become one with the trees.
Neteyam takes atypical aim, piercing through the beast's skull instead of its heart. But you whoop and yip all the same once the kill is made. Proud that he has accomplished such a task on his own.
Proud that he will soon claim his txawuk.
Proud that he will be one of your people soon.
When you finally return to the village the rest of the clan's people react the same. You usher Neteyam to them as you haul his kill to be skinned and broken down into all its pieces.
Your favorite member of the family is Tuk. Children are the most impressionable, and she takes well to your customs.
She adores your carvings made of bone. Nestles into the furs you’ve gifted her. Asks to go on rides on Wi’tsin whenever you have free time. And if you cannot take her, she runs to one of the many friends she's made in your clan.
But you make a special exception for Neteyam in your heart after waking up with him in the cave. The past months spent with him have a new look to them, a brighter hue as you see all his redeeming qualities.
It was an old tradition to have one of your most honored furs be that of the first her'ang you killed by your lonesome. You had not passed the knowledge to Neteyam, deciding it would make for a good surprise. One last gift before he joined your people as a warrior.
So you personally skin the beast. Tie it to the drying posts. Paste salts upon it. Then you wait.
Four days pass before the furs are ready.
Your patience almost wore thin, almost believing that they would not be ready before he took on his final rite. But thank Eywa, they were ready.
Your stride is soft as you approach the Sully tent, not wanting to wake anyone still sleeping inside. You can hear murmurs whispering from inside, but pay them no mind. Most of the village has not risen yet and it would be rude to speak in loud tones.
A familiar name passes through the conversation though. Your name is sounded out by Lo’ak’s voice – it is then that you decide to listen instead of making your presence known.
“I’m just sayin bro. You’ve got her sweet on you after your hunt.”
Neteyam laughs a bit boyishly, “It is not like that.”
“Yeah but even Tuk couldn’t get her to let up on us. Always nagging about the clan ways, and how we wouldn’t fit.”
Oh Eywa forbid you were skeptical that Na’vi that came from a tropical climate would have a hard time adjusting.
“She likes Tuk. They do many things together.”
“Sure, but she still hounded us. You, me and Kiri had to learn so much. And she didn’t even give us compassion for the simple fact that we were here because of uturu!”
A sigh resonates in the space. You can hear some shuffling before Neteyams voice sounds again.
“She just worries for the future, Lo’ak. A heavy title rests on her shoulders.”
“Yeah but she didn’t have to be such an ass about it.”
You were brash, sure. Drilled your customs into their skulls. Made them practice the same tasks a hundred times.
But they were things you had done thousands of times, things any person their age was well familiar with. And if they wanted to be sure members in your clan, then they needed to be able to complete the tasks without needing assistance.
“Listen, I’m just saying thanks for working her so that we could catch a break, I knew you’d come around.”
Working you? This whole time Neteyam was just feeding into you, trying to receive your affections so his siblings would not have to hear from you?
You supposed you were tough on them. But you did not threaten to skin them, did not shy away from their jokes or their teasing. If they wanted to take things slower, or differentiate the skills they practiced, why not just say something?
Despite yourself, when a sinking feeling invades your chest, you realize that you did come to like them. That you enjoyed their company, and could even see yourself spending time with them after they had been properly integrated into the clan.
Clearly your sentiments were not returned.
Lo’ak and Kiri were far enough in their rites that you did not have to deal with them anymore. Tuk could join the other young children at this point. And Neteyam would be finishing his final rite shortly, freeing you of his presence.
You did not need to make a scene. Did not need to confront them for their hurtful words, you were never meant to hear them anyway.
You were meant to play into the role. Get strung along by Neteyam for Eywa knows how long. And to be cast aside when he chose someone else.
Turning on your heel you head back towards the village center. Tempat and Posma are there, waiting eagerly for Neteyam’s send off.
“I am feeling unwell, perhaps some bad fruit at the cookfire last night.” Hastily, you thrust the furs from Neteyam’s kill into Posma’s arms, “Can one of you guide him today?”
Posma replies, a concerned glint in her eyes at your unusual behavior, “Of course! Go rest, you will not want to miss the celebration later.”
Hours later after Neteyam has left on his journey Posma pokes her head into your kelku. She spots you curled up on your bed of furs and pelts, submerged to the point that she only notices from the uneven lump.
“I had Tempat lead Neteyam.”
You only glance at her from your heap. Eyes blinking slowly as acknowledgement.
She sheds the furs that adorn her shoulders, then lifts the ones that rest on top of you. Climbing in and cradling your head to her chest she speaks again, “What has happened?”
“It does not matter.”
The rumble of laughter in her chest is comforting. If you closed your eyes and focused enough maybe it could lull you back to sleep.
“I think it does.” Her hand begins stroking through your braids, slightly scratching on their way down then smoothing again on the next pass. “You were very proud, very excited, to give Neteyam his furs.”
“He received them did he not?”
“He did. But he does not know the love and attention that was put into them.”
You lift your head, eyes meeting Posmas, “You did not sell me out?”
“Of course not! You are my tsmuke, blood or not, and he is just a boy.”
Your eyes begin to tear at that. If he would treat you so cruelly in private, while being so kind to your face, then he is just a boy. At some point, your few tears turn into sobs. The crashing weight of everything finally collapsing onto you.
Your endless duties meant that you did not have time to form bonds outside of your few friends. That you did not have time to seek a mate, to ask for Eywa’s blessing. And it had seemed as if one was handed to you on a silver platter.
Neteyam was well fit to be Olo’eyktan, he had spent his entire life training for it with the Omatikaya. And you had learned both the Olo’eyktan and Tsahik responsibilities – well prepared to lead on your own, or with someone standing by your side.
He had listened. Had encouraged you to speak about your childhood eagerly, wanting to hear how the lesson for the day tied into Herwìslär culture.
He made it a point to come and find you even after you had dismissed his siblings. You had thought it had been to spend time with you, under the guise of studying.
Thought that his interest in your clans weaving techniques could have possibly meant him looking into your clans courting techniques.
Eywa. You even thought that some part of him deciding to complete the most dangerous rite was so that he could pick a mate in your people. That he could ask your father to court you and eventually take you as his mate.
Now you know that it all was so Lo’ak and Kiri could frolic around the village without you to guide them.
Without you breathing down their necks, trying to ensure that they were completely set before you sent them off on their own.
But as you had thought earlier, the Sully kids did not need you anymore. You’re sure of it when your mother returns home and informs you of Neteyam returning with a txawuk.
Good for him. Great for you. You could finally return to the way your life had been, to only completing your trainings and duties and spending your free time however you pleased.
You do not attend the gathering that night to celebrate Neteyam’s accomplishment. Still feigning illness.
You ignore the disappointment at not celebrating his achievement with him. However, it does not matter, the wound is still fresh.
It remains fresh for weeks. You go from just avoiding Neteyam to no longer speaking to Kiri, even leaving your sessions with your mother when she decides to join. You avoid Lo’ak at all costs, his shouts of zusawkrr olo’eykte! go unanswered. When Tuk asks you to take her out for rides, you instead redirect her towards her siblings, and if they are busy you remind her that Posma or Tempat would take her if she truly desired to go.
Your new pattern is not difficult. In fact, you quite like it. Like the fact that you have time to focus on yourself again. That you can refocus on learning how to best lead your people.
Neteyam had expected you to guide him when he completed his last rite. That even if you said you could not interfere, that you could not catch him when he fell, that you would at least be there with him. Your presence enough to give him some calmness in his death-defying moment.
But you are not there when he arrives. Posma is there, Tempat too. They greet him excitedly, bestowing him a gift in the form of the furs of his first solo her’ang kill.
It's only when Tempat ushers him forward that he questions where you are. Why they were leaving without his kayru.
A sad smile graces their features when they tell him you are sick. That you went home to recover before the celebration that would be held in his honor tonight.
It gave him some peace. Knowing that you weren’t missing the event because you wanted to, but because of an illness. The peace fades as worry ebbs in, what had gotten you sick? It must have been bad if you couldn't at least see him off.
No matter, he could ask you all about it when he returned. Inquire about your illness, then talk your ear off about how the rite went. Afterwards he'd beg you to compare it to yours.
Always eager to learn about you. To learn about your people. To meld to your ways.
He wondered what age you were when you completed the rite. Who went with you? How many younglings were there to choose from? What drew you to the one you picked?
So many questions that he never got answers to. You never showed at the celebration. Lo'ak thought you just must have been missing each other; perfectly coasting around the gathering at exact opposite points. Neteyam knew better though.
He saw Posma come by, share her joy for him, then stop and grab two food wraps before venturing off again. Neteyam would try to deny it, to refuse that she was bringing the second wrap for you, but he knew better.
Had you been consumed with your duties today? That wouldn't make sense, he was one of your duties so you should have been with him. But it would be fine, he would see you tomorrow and all would be well.
But then tomorrow comes and you do not greet the Sully children in the morning. Do not find them at their kelku, do not surprise them from behind as they meander towards the village center. There is nothing that even hints at your presence.
Neteyam’s able to find Tempat. Calling out to him and rushing to his side. “Is she still sick?”
Tempat smiles brightly at him, “Oh, no. You have completed your last rite, and your siblings are far enough that they can join the others their age!”
“So that is it?”
Tempat nods, speaking something about them being able to do whatever they pleased when their duties were completed.
But Neteyam wanted to see you. That was what would please him. Yet he cannot seem to grasp a moment of your time.
It has now been a full moon cycle since Neteyam has spoken to you.
Something gnaws at his chest uncomfortably. He went from spending every moment with you, to now being lucky if he can catch a glimpse of your furs through the crowd.
Every hunt he attends, you miss. Every call of your name is ignored. Every trip Posma and Tempat take him and his siblings on, you do not attend.
He tries to sit near you at the cookfires, engage in your circle of friends. Anytime he gets close you politely excuse yourself, planting yourself firmly between your parents. He considers approaching, it may work in his favor.
Your father had ordered you to speak to him and his siblings before, maybe it would be the same now. But he thinks back on how angry it had made you, how at first you only spent time with them because you were bound by duty to. He wanted you to talk with him because you wanted to; not because you were forced.
So he keeps trying his luck in other forms.
He joins the women as they dry pelts and furs – ignores how when you see him you retreat.
He spends much time carving. Honing in on his ability to carve into bone, to make intricate patterns in it.
He hunts and goes for flights, spending as much time as he's allowed away from the village. Trying to will his tropical skin to fade, for it to become well resistant to the cold of your home.
After two moon cycles of not speaking with you he confronts Posma.
“I just do not understand what happened. Did she really only tolerate our presence?”
Posma purses her lips, “It is not like that.”
“Then what is it like? Please enlighten me.” Neteyam exasperates, he is tired of this.
“She is busy with her duties.”
“Do not patronize me. I see her spend time with the hunters, weavers, and carvers.” Neteyam huffs, biting his lip before continuing, “If we, if I, have done something I would like to apologize.”
“It is not my place to share if there is something to apologize for.” Posma crosses her arms, “Whatever answers you're looking for, I do not have.”
Neteyam nods, gnawing at his lip again. Posma moves to leave, assuming the conversation is over, but then he calls out to her again.
“Can you take us to the Hollow of S? Kiri would like to connect with Eywa.”
“You do not know the way?”
Neteyam allows a sheepish smile to grace his face, “We have only been once, and I do not wish to get lost.”
So Posma nods, tells him to meet her at the gates after their duties are done. Neteyam rushes to where Kiri is weaving, pleading with her to keep up his lie.
She had not asked to visit the Hollow. Had not complained and nagged her brother as he had made it seem, but she would not mind going. Naturally though, as a younger sibling, she needed to press.
“Why do you need to go?”
Netryam rolled his eyes, “It does not matter. Just do not expose me, alright?”
“It is for your little crush, isn't it?” Kiri laughs when Neteyam’s eyes widen a fraction, “What? Did you overhear that she would be there?”
“No. No, I did not. I just…” He huffs, unwilling to share something so deep when he is so unsure. But Kiri was not Lo'ak, she would not rat out his secret, “I just want to see if Eywa wills it.”
At that Kiri stills, a grin overtaking her face. It has been a long time coming that her brother admitted his infatuation, so supposed she could keep up the lie for him.
It was clear along the Sullys that Neteyam had been taken with you since they had arrived. They noticed his staring, seeking you out in gatherings or meetings.
Tried to not tease him as he practiced traditional clan necessities of carving and weaving in his spare time.
His father was pleased. Not only was he adapting, but he was truly making it his home. Finding his home, in a place where they were safe.
His mother did not approve at first. It was not against you, it had absolutely nothing to do with you. She had hoped that they would return to her people, the Omatikaya, when the time was right. If Neteyam settled and built a life here, it would mean that she lost her firstborn.
She eventually came to terms with it. Her son would have to find a mate someday, why not be happy that it is someone so skilled? Someone held in high prestige and who reminded her much of herself when Jake had originally come to her people.
Kiri and Tuk were excited. Another sister was someone else to make adorable chest coverings for, someone else to share secrets with, someone else who could braid your hair in intricate patterns with pretty beads. Even if they ended up being able to go back to the Omatikaya, it only meant they had a secondary home here, with new friends, mounts and lifestyles.
Lo'ak liked you. Despite your temperament towards him and his family, you had been kind. You had stuck up for him when one of the warriors a little older than him called him a ‘half-breed’. A firm slap of your palm against the boys cheek paired with a hiss to ‘not disrespect your Olo'eyktan or Toruk Makto again’.
From then on everyone knew it wasn't to be mentioned that they were related to even the idea of the sky people. It meant a lot to Lo'ak; his five fingers being something that even some Omatikaya people judged him for.
He didn't mind that Neteyam had a thing for you. Hell, if anything he was shocked his brother liked someone so cold and cut off. But he slowly came to realize that his brother saw himself in you. That he found someone he could relate to, someone he could speak to of his pressures and they would know exactly how he felt.
One night after a particularly rough lesson, one that Lo'ak did not do well on, their dad asks you how they are progressing. You tell him that maybe Lo'ak could use a little bit more practice at the skill, maybe put some more focus into it, but other than that everyone did well.
That night Jake had called a family meeting. He laid into Lo'ak, as he frequently does, telling him he needed to do better. To focus more, and to wise up, before he ruined the uturu they had sought.
Lo'ak had stormed off, chest aching at his father's disappointment. But then the feeling turned angry, angry that his father never understood the stress he was under. Angry that no one stood up for him.
Eventually it snowballs into anger at you. If you had never said anything, then this whole night would have never happened. So when Neteyam comes to comfort him Lo'ak asks him to warm you up a bit.
To get you to understand their struggle, specifically his, a bit more. Neteyam says no, that you do understand the struggles, and that it was just a stressful day for everyone.
So Lo'ak pushes a bit more. States that Neteyam is a ‘chicken’ as his dad would say, a coward for Na'vi. That he's refusing to warm you up because he's afraid you won't accept his advances.
Lo'ak doesn't think anything bad could come if it. Neteyam would get what he wanted, the rest of the family would be content with his choice.
Another advantage would be that hopefully some of Neteyam’s worrying would pass onto you, and allow him to get into some actual trouble with this new clan. To allow him to deepen the friendships he's made.
He pushes his older brother's buttons to the point of aggravation. Telling him it's okay big bro, we both know you couldn't get her anyway. And Neteyam's need to prove himself surfaces. He had already been trying to attract your view, what was the harm in helping out his baby bro?
And it had gone well for a while. He was slowly inching his way closer to you; aiding you in your duties after his lessons, sitting with you at the cookfires, helping you haul the kills in, sometimes even just bringing you a steaming beverage as you went over your Tsahik training.
He truly believed that he was carving his way into your heart. Then right before his final rite, you dumped him and his siblings as if they were hot coals. Refusing to look at them, to speak to them, Eywa you barely acknowledged that they existed.
So when Neteyam finally approaches the Hollow of Spirits he makes quickly towards the glowing ice stalactites. They’re cold, slippery to the touch, but from the moment Neteyam puts his fingers on one he can feel Eywa pulsing through them.
His opposite hand flies back, reaching for his kuru. He expects a jolt when he connects, for the iciness to freeze over his blood, but instead all he feels is warmth.
The Great Mother knows what he is here for and she confirms his beliefs. That you are the one for him. That you would come to your mantles well when the time came.
A grin forces its way onto his face, an insurmountable amount of joy overcoming him. It was settled. He would craft the courting gift he had been thinking of for weeks now.
It is one infused with both of your peoples. And when you see it, you will agree to courting him. Eywa has willed it after all.
A few more days pass – Neteyam wanted the gift to be perfect. He briefly worries that him not approaching you may make you drift towards another. But his remembrance of Eywa's plans calms him.
It is a beautiful necklace.
When you wear it, it will sit right between your collarbones. He has used Omatikayan weaving patterns, but weaved Herwìslär beads on both sides. In the center rests a bead that he once wore in his hair, one that he searched hours for, wanting something the same shade as the outer edges of a tsawksyul. Finally, resting just below the bead he has weaved in a carving of bone, one shaped to be a tsawksyul; his favorite flower in the entire forest, one he hoped to show you one day.
He tracks you down, pleased to see you’re sitting with Posma fiddling with your bowstring. He knows that Posma saw something in his demeanor change at the Hollow of Spirits, that she may even aid him in getting you to not be stubborn and to listen to him.
“We must speak.”
You glance up at him, before sliding your eyes to your friend. He must be speaking to her as he hasn’t had the chance to talk to you in weeks. When you stay silent he calls out your name, followed by a soft please.
“Will it be brief? I have much to do.”
Neteyam’s lips purse in a tight smile, “I hope it does not.”
“Then speak, so it may move quickly.”
“I have thought of you for many moons – well, to be honest, since my family has arrived for uturu.” Eywa, Neteyam hopes you look at him at least once while he spills his guts, “You are like no one I have ever met. So similar to myself that I did not know how to handle it at first. I see you.”
You raise your head glancing at him with scrutiny swimming in your eyes. He does not mind the way you look at him, simply joyed at being able to look into your eyes finally, to restudy your features. So he continues, more sure now, “I’ve been taken by you; every thought is consumed by you. Every moment I have spent away from you was spent searching for you.”
Neteyam ruffles through the satchel that rests under his furs, producing an intricately woven necklace, “I wish to court you. To eventually make you ma muntxate.” He presents the gift to you. His hands tremble a bit as he awaits your answer, even if Eywa has willed it he still has nerves.
You huff, turning your face away, leaning back into the bowstring you were previously toying with. “No.”
Neteyam is shocked. He had known you were not on the best of terms, even if he did not know why. But he was sure that the previous moments would be enough for you to at least be willing to try with him.
He can see Posma is shocked too. Though he is not sure if it is from his admission, or yours.
“No?”
“I do not want it. If you wish to find a muntxate, I am sure that Selra is interested.”
“Selra? The singer?”
“Yes.” You nod along, “She tries to be discreet, but anyone can spot the way she looks at you over the cookfire.”
“I do not want Selra. We have not even had a conversation.” Neteyam refuses to bring his hands back, to allow your rejection of his courting, “I only desire you.”
“Ei’wen is also a good choice.”
“I do not want–”
“She is a hunter. Assuming that is one of the similarities you see between yourself and I.”
Posma's eyes have not stopped darting between the two of you. She obviously should not be here for this conversation, all it does is make her curious over what she has missed, at what lead to this point in your relationship.
“I do not want them. I want you.” He once again jostles the jewelry in his palm, “I have come here to ask you, only after consulting with Eywa. The Great Mother has told me we are destined, you must believe me.”
You scoff, “I do not have to believe any words that spill from your tongue. You have spoken lies before to achieve what you want, there is nothing stopping you from doing so again.”
Neteyam has no idea what you are talking about. He has never lied to you before, never done anything deceitful to you. But before he can confess this you are up, snatching your bow from where you had rested it, and beginning to storm away from him.
When he moves to follow, to chase you down and prove his point, Posma presses a hand into his chest, halting his movement. He does not allow this to deter him, instead shouting after you, “Ask Eywa yourself! At the Hollow of Spirits, as I had! She will tell you the same thing she has told me!”
Your pace quickened after the words spilled past his lips. He never gets a response but he knows you heard him. Knows that it will fester and nag at your brain until you go to check yourself, so he turns to Posma.
“May I ask a favor?”
The hand on his chest retracts until just a single finger rests above his heart, “You are on thin ice. You do not get to ask for a favor.”
“I just wish to know if she listens. If she travels to the Hollow.”
Posma does not grant him an answer. She simply pushes into his chest with her finger and heads in the direction you went. Neteyam is uncertain that she will tell him, uncertain that you would even head remotely in the direction of the Hollows anytime soon. But he still had faith that Eywa was correct, that she had not led him astray.
Another week passes languidly. He goes through the motions; hunting, foraging, spending time with his siblings and newfound friends. The only change from the past two months is that you now let your eyes linger on him.
It is not fond, an intense glare that almost leaves him shrinking in on himself. He is not afraid of you; has never been and will never be. So he takes it in stride, smiling when he meets your gaze, allowing his tail to swish a little with curiosity.
He hopes one of these days that instead of staring, you would approach. Even if you do not, he will take any improvement in your acknowledgement of him. Would be pleased if you were to lash out at him, if it meant he got to hear your voice.
A sort of limbo passes over him. He hopes you would not reject him. That you would accept his advances. If you did not it would be okay, he is unsure of how long it would take him to recover from such a loss, but he would figure it out. He just hopes that you drag out the time before telling him, that you allow him to live in the fantasy where you accept for a little while longer.
Neteyam is on his way to take Tuk for a ride on his herwanpalu when Posma stops him. “I did not tell you anything, do you understand?”
Oh.
He nods, yes he understands. He’s been waiting for this moment. Tuk is ordered to find something else to do, to go find her friends or her other older siblings. After she is moving with purpose back towards the village he runs to call his herwanpalu.
He mimics the grunts and calls you taught him. It would be smart to adorn her in a saddle, to have some supplies if something went wrong, but Neteyam is moving to make it as quickly as possible. His fingers grip tight onto the fur in front of him, before commanding his mount to speed in your direction. He did not need to see the realization on your face. Did not need to be there as you disconnected your kuru from the stalactite. He simply needed to arrive before you left.
He walks into the Hollow, breathless as if he had personally ran the entire way here. From the silence he half expects you to be gone. The hopeful half of him assumes that you are still connected, still speaking to Eywa and searching out answers.
So he crawls softly and thoughtfully through the cave, he doesn’t want to startle you out of your conversation if you are not yet done. He does not spot you and his face falls, assuming you left.
He moves to the mouth of the cave, disappointed that he missed what he considered to be the best opportunity to change your mind. Before he can step towards the more surface levels of the hollow a voice calls after him.
“Why did you lie?”
Ah. So you were here.
He whips around, amber eyes scanning his surroundings. They hone in on your figure, lower legs dipping into the freezing water that some stalactites rest above.
“I would never lie to you. Can you be more specific?”
Neteyam is moving closer now, unintentionally blocking you in. You see it as intentional, that he wants to force a conversation that does not need to be had. He sees it as his body refusing to be away from you anymore, especially in such a sacred place.
“I overheard you before your final rite. Lo’ak said that you had been ‘working’ me so that I would take it easier on you and your siblings during your lessons.”
He laughs a breath through his nose, “It was not like that.”
You hiss in return. If he thinks you to be stupid, then you would leave. Before you can stand Neteyam grabs your hand, planting it underneath his against the floor.
“Lo’ak is a skxawng, but he does know how to get under my skin.” His free hand lifts to direct your face towards his, “He said that I could not get you to become infatuated with me as I had with you, said that I was a fnawe’tu.”
Your eyes trace his furs, recognizing it as the same ones you crafted specially for him, “You are not a fnawe’tu.”
“I am not. And Lo’ak knew I would be eager to prove him wrong, he simply wanted to get under my skin one last time before I came into my own in this clan.”
You begin to think it over. Lo’ak had always been teasing, always the one to try and use comedy even in situations they did not belong in. He was not cruel, simply wanting to find his place.
“What were you doing outside our kelku?”
“I came to deliver the furs from your first solo kill, as a final good luck.”
He smiles widely at you, “These are from you?”
You nod in agreement, not able to trust your voice.
The two of you sit in silence for a few minutes after that. Neteyam does not want to overwhelm you, and you have too much going on in your head to formulate a proper thought.
At some point you speak again, softly as to not disturb the peace the two of you have entered. “Do you still have the necklace?”
“Of course.” Neteyam begins digging into his furs, when he procures the necklace you stare at it longingly.
“I lied.” When his brow furrows in confusion you continue. “When I said I did not want it? I had lied, it is one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen a Na’vi create.”
“Then may I put it on the most beautiful Na’vi I have ever seen?”
Neteyam moves quickly when you agree. His fingers move deftly as he ties the necklace into place. Then he allows them to ghost down the weave, tracing over the beads before stopping to rest upon the centerpiece.
He nods in approval, eyes meeting yours when he glances up. A new emotion swims in them, one of hunger, of desire; something he has not seen you allow yourself to indulge in before.
Oh Eywa, he had been waiting for this. If you wanted him, he would allow you to devour him whole. Send his spirit back to the ancestors and he would thank you.
Instead he forces himself to hold his composure, allows his fingers to ghost back up your neck. Curves his palm so it rests on the back of your neck, thumb lightly caressing your jaw. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, subconsciously pursing them as you stare at his.
So he takes the lead, lightly pressing his lips to yours. Neteyam soon finds that this is not enough, that after so many months of not being able to have you that it would take him forever to satiate the heat that began to pool in his stomach.
You lick into his mouth and he realizes you must be just as hungry as he is. He does not fight you, allows you to have dominance, to take what you want with no resistance. It’s only when you pull back for breath that he revolts, hands moving to lift you to rest in his lap.
It gives him more places to put his hands, and makes it easier for you to take whatever you want. When you pull away again Neteyam chases, he knows that you’re not pulling away for air and he does not wish to halt.
“This is…” You’re huffing, needing to catch all the breaths that Neteyam stole from you, “We are moving fast.”
“We moved slow for many months.” When your brow creases in protest, he allows his thumbs to rub soothing circles into your waist where they’ve snuck under your fur, “But if you wish, we can continue to take it slow.”
You do not wish to take it slow. But you are still apprehensive with what he said about Lo’ak. If he was lying to you, and he really was playing you in the beginning you aren’t sure if you would be able to recover emotionally.
Sensing your turmoil, Neteyam nuzzles his nose against yours, “What is it yawne?”
“I just worry that you are still playing me. That I am embarrassing myself with my actions.”
He smiles at you lovingly, “I am not. I have never been. But we can go ask Lo’ak if you would like to quell your worries.”
You do not respond, weighing your options. You could ask Lo’ak, could confront him and ask why he did not just speak to you directly. But if it was truly as Neteyam said it would only embarrass you. You’re shocked out of your stupor when pink, glowing tendrils emerge in front of your eyes.
“Or, because we both know you would not trust his words on a situation as serious as this anyway, I can prove it to you now.”
“We cannot take back tsaheylu, Neteyam. Be serious.”
He does not lower his kuru at your words, “I am being serious. What did Eywa show you?”
“That she has willed us to be together. It has been fated since we were children.”
He smiles, Eywa had shown him similar visions. “So why delay if it will happen eventually?”
Neteyam had a point. Your father may skin you, your mother would be disappointed that there were no pre-mating ceremonies completed. But if Eywa willed it to happen, and the two of you were ready, would it really be harmful?
Your hand reaches behind you to grasp your kuru, “You are sure?”
“I have never been more sure.”
So you press your kuru forward, allowing the tendrils to entangle themselves with his.
Your pupils blow wide. The emotions bombard you like something you’ve never felt before, the feeling overwhelming all of your senses.
The love, the nervousness, the way he pined for you for months. The way he admires his parents, and adores his siblings. How he misses the Omatikaya forest, but has made your forest one of his own too.
Feel his desire to take you flying on his ikran, for you to claim your own ikran. To show you his forest, share all his knowledge of it with you. How he wants to feed you the delicacies of his people, to watch you in just simple loincloths instead of heavy furs.
Then the memories flow through you, ones that are not your own. A bright lush forest, roaring rivers, snowless floating mountains. Little hands holding a newborn baby. Hands being directed to aim properly at a fish.
When you finally come back to your senses you’re huffing a bit, body working to compensate for the immense things your brain is being flooded with. When you realize Neteyam has come to himself too, you lurch forward.
It’s messy at first, your teeth clashing with his, fangs accidentally catching his lips. But then you can feel everything from his perspective. The tug of the fang, the way he briefly thinks about how he would not mind you sinking them into him on purpose.
Suddenly you’re overwhelmed all over again. You allow Neteyam to roll you onto your back, allow him to take control. He licks into your mouth again, eager to experience this while connected to you.
You know there will be repercussions when the two of you arrive home. That there will be questions. Important talks between your parents and yourselves. But as Neteyam begins to kiss down the side of your face, to your jaw, and eventually your jugular you cannot find any will to care about the repercussions.
When he lifts the carved bone from where it rests just beneath your collarbones, and presses a kiss to the spot, you believe you could face public humiliation for this and not be upset. It must pass through the bond, as shortly after Neteyam laughs against your ribs.
Whatever conspires from there is just for the two of you to know and everyone else to question.
At least it was.
Almost exactly twelve months after your night in the Hollow you welcome your first child, and everyone is more than aware of what you got up to.
Translations (had to make some of these up by mashing words together from the na’vi dictionary, so not everything is 100% correct): Her’ang - Snow beast Herwanpalu - Snow feline Herwìslär clan - Snow cave clan Uturu - refugee/sanctuary Nume nìwin - Learn quickly Kelku - home Tewng - Loincloth Zusawkrr olo’eykte - Future clan leader Txawuk - Giant flying mount Tsmuke - Sister Kayru - Teacher Ma muntxate - My mate Tsawksyul - Sun lily Skxawng - Moron/Idiot Fnawe’tu - Coward Yawne - Beloved
a/n: i adore this fic so please be nice to it.. i loosely wanted to mirror inuit culuture, so a bunch of inspiration for the way that the na'vi of the clan acted or things that they wore were based off of that. i also adore the snow, and the cold, and everything to do with winter so i naturally had to put two obsessions together. i put pictures that i based the creatures on below.
fun fact: i wrote about 3-4k of the words for this while actively shoveling snow for about 8 hours :p
Dividers by @cafekitsune and @cursed-carmine
Likes/Comments/Reblogs give me butterflies ʚїɞ
Credits to Edoardo Campagnolo and Antonio J. Manzanedo
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