m1tsu-ki

[m1tsu-ki]

Home Is You

Paring: Neteyam x Fem!Omatikaya!Reader

Warnings: NSFW 18+, established relationship, flirting , smut, cheating (technically), mentions of sex tapes/hot pictures/videos, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of child birth, mentions of blood, gunshot wounds, loads of trauma, explicit language and acts, p in v, orals (m&f receiving), our man falls into a coma, memory loss, kissing, touching. (If I forgot anything please lmk)

Word Count: 49.1k

Disclaimer: All my characters are aged-up! If that bothers you, please do not interact with my account or any of my post! Also for the this fic, Kiri is the biological daughter of Jake and Neytiri.

Index: mauri - homes in the Metkayina Clan, yawne - beloved, tìywan - love, kelku - homes in the Omatikaya Clan. (If I forgot anything please lmk)

Main M.List

You met Neteyam when your steps were still wobbly and your words mostly giggles. He was barely steadier than you—his braids just beginning, his steps a little wider—but from the moment he found you crouched near the roots of the Home Tree, you became his shadow. He toddled up with a half-eaten yovo fruit and, without hesitation, tore it in two with clumsy fingers, offering you the larger half. It was sticky and sweet, and you always remembered it as the moment he chose you. And maybe… the moment you chose him too.

From then on, it was rare to see one of you without the other. You learned to walk together, your hands often tangled as you teetered around the village. When you fell, he’d help you up, and when he tripped, you’d sit beside him until he stood again. The other adults would chuckle at the sight—tiny footsteps weaving through the forest, your matching laughter echoing through the trees. You’d nap curled beside him in the Sully’s hammock during long afternoons, Neteyam’s hand always reaching for yours in sleep, even when he’d roll away. Jake would raise a brow and smirk knowingly. Neytiri would only smile, brushing your hair back and calling you syulang, her little flower. They saw it early—what you and Neteyam would someday become—even when you were still too young to understand it yourselves.

You both remembered when Neytiri was pregnant with Kiri—Neteyam was confused at first, always poking at his mother’s growing belly and asking when the baby would “stop hiding.” You didn’t understand it either, but you liked resting your head beside him on Neytiri’s belly, watching it move as little Kiri rolled inside. When she was finally born, Neteyam was speechless, wide-eyed and soft as he held her tiny hand. “She’s mine,” he whispered to you with the quiet pride only a big brother could wear. You just nodded, understanding without needing to speak.

Then came Lo’ak. You were both a bit older—Neteyam nearly six—and you still remember when Neytiri told you he’d be getting a brother. Neteyam practically vibrated with excitement, dragging you around the village talking about all the things he’d teach his brother: how to climb, how to throw a spear, how to chase glow bugs at night. “And I’ll teach him how to protect you,” he added casually, like it was obvious. You just smiled and said, “He’ll have the best big brother.” When Lo’ak was born, Neteyam wasn’t overwhelmed like with Kiri—he was ready this time. “I’m gonna be the best,” he told you, gently adjusting the baby’s blanket like he was holding the future. He even whispered to Lo’ak that he already had a best friend—and that it was you.

Those years were full of joy. Your days were endless stretches of running through the forest, racing along vines, whispering secrets while hidden in the high tree canopies. You shared everything—fruit, beads, bruises, laughter. When Tuk was born and made the family five, you both stood over her, older now, understanding just how sacred it was to grow up surrounded by love. Neteyam pressed a kiss to her forehead, then turned to you. “I hope she finds someone like you,” he whispered, and you pretended not to hear how warm your cheeks became.

Jake often joked that you’d been adopted by the Sullys long before any ceremony could make it true. Neytiri treated you like a daughter, braiding feathers into your hair with loving fingers, scolding you just as gently as she would Neteyam. And sometimes, when she caught the two of you dozing in a sunbeam, limbs tangled and breath in sync, she’d just exchange a look with Jake—a knowing one. The kind that said, it’s always been them.

By the time you were thirteen and Neteyam fourteen, you were no longer just playmates. You were partners in everything: training, learning, dreaming. But even then, the purest part of your bond was the way you looked at each other—like somehow, in all the chaos and beauty of the forest, you had each found home.

When Neteyam turned fourteen, the village buzzed with anticipation. It was also his time—his rite of passage, the long-awaited climb to the floating mountains to claim his ikran. You weren’t allowed to go with him, though Eywa knew you tried to convince the elders otherwise. “I’ll just hide behind the rocks,�� you had argued, arms crossed and defiant. But Jake only ruffled your hair, and Neytiri kissed your cheek with a chuckle. “You’ll have your turn, little one. Let him fly.”

You waited at the edge of the village the entire day, pacing, chewing your bottom lip, weaving and unweaving a small bracelet you’d started just to keep your hands busy. Every time you looked up, your eyes searched the skies, your heart jumping at the faintest sound of wings. And then, finally, you saw him.

Neteyam came soaring over the trees with the wind in his braids and the sun blazing behind him, riding the back of a fierce, sharp-beaked blue ikran. His smile was wide, radiant, full of victory. His yips of joy echoed across the forest and lit something wild in your chest. You didn’t wait. You ran—bare feet pounding across the ground, eyes stinging with happy tears—and launched yourself into his arms the moment he landed. He caught you effortlessly, laughing as you wrapped your arms and legs around him like a clingy yip-yip. “I did it,” he whispered into your neck, and you just nodded, tears soaking his shoulder. “I know,” you breathed. “I never doubted you.”

The next night, the village danced in celebration. Neteyam completed his Dream Hunt, bringing back a successful kill and presenting it with reverence. The people welcomed him as one of them—with chants, with firelight, with the steady pounding of drums. You stood beside his family, your heart full of pride. Lo’ak teased you all night, nudging your shoulder and muttering, “You’re gonna cry again, aren’t you?” And you did. But you didn’t care, you were so proud of him.

A year later, when you turned fourteen, it was your turn. And just like you had waited for him, Neteyam waited for you. He rose before the suns and flew to the floating mountains ahead of you, perched among the cliffs like a silent shadow waiting for you to arrive. You knew he was there watching, waiting, smiling. When you approached the ikran rookery, heart pounding, palms sweaty, your eyes fierce with determination, you didn’t know that far above, Neteyam held his breath with pride as he followed you below the waterfall, “you got this. Remember what I taught you.”

You tamed your ikran with grace and fire, your spirit strong and your heart steady. And when you paused. Neteyam ran up to you holding the rope around your ikran’s mouth and guided her to face the edge of the cliff. “First flight seals the bond, think fly.”

“Fly?” And just like that you took off, quickly finding a way to steady yourself in the back of your now winged companion, the grin on your face nearly split you open. He stood there on the cliff, hands cupped around his mouth as he cheered for you. You returned home flying side by side with feathers tangled in your braids and windburn on your cheeks, your soul forever changed. When you landed, Neteyam was the first to greet you. His hands framed your face, his eyes bright. “You were beautiful up there,” he said softly. “Like you were born to fly.”

You became one of the people that night, dancing beside Neteyam around the flames, your foreheads pressed together as the village sang for you. Jake lifted you into a strong embrace, calling you daughter with pride. Neytiri wept and braided a special feather into your hair. Kiri held your hand the whole ceremony. Even Lo’ak, grinning ear to ear, handed you a carved piece of bone shaped like a little ikran.

And Neteyam? He stood behind you the entire night, his hand warm on your waist, his eyes only ever on you. You were no longer just his shadow. You were his equal now, his partner. And it was written in every look he gave you.

The glances you exchanged held a different weight. Now you were fifteen and he was sixteen your bodies had begun to shift, you’d noticed it first in his arms, how they’d grown thicker with muscle from climbing, hunting, training. His chest had broadened, his voice deeper now, richer. You caught yourself watching him from the corner of your eye as he helped build or skin a kill, your stomach flipping each time his back flexed under the stretch of his bowstring. And he noticed you, too. Your hips had begun to curve, your stride more fluid. The paint across your chest during ceremonies now made his mouth go dry. You would catch him staring sometimes, pupils wide, a subtle swallow in his throat as he looked away too late. Neteyam wasn’t good at hiding it, and his siblings were relentless.

Lo’ak smirked every time you came around. “You’re staring again, big bro,” he’d nudge with his elbow, loud enough for you to hear, making your ears burn. Tuk would giggle and whisper, “You’re always looking at her,” and Kiri would grin with that knowing look and mutter, “You’ve got it bad.” Even Jake noticed, pulling Neteyam aside once with a teasing tone and a raised brow. “Keep your eyes in your head, kid. You’re not subtle.”

The heat between you two thickened during sparring practice. He’d pin you, hand against your hip to brace you, and linger a second too long. You’d roll over him to escape, but not before he noticed the way your breath caught. Your touches began to last longer, skin to skin in the most innocent ways that didn’t feel innocent anymore. Then came a moment, that humid afternoon after a hunt, when he walked behind you, offering water. You took it, brushing his fingers, and when you turned, his gaze was already on your mouth. His ears twitched, his throat moved like he wanted to speak. He didn’t. But his eyes said it all.

It started slowly, the shift in how others looked at you both. At first, it was almost laughable, how the same boys who used to pull your braid now stammered when you smiled. Or how the girls, once shy around Neteyam, now found every excuse to ask for help, compliments bubbling on their tongues.

You had grown used to the lingering stares, but what you hadn’t expected was Neteyam’s silence when one of the older hunters, Rokean, offered to walk you back to your kelku after training. You caught the flicker in Neteyam’s jaw, the way he adjusted his stance, too stiff, too still. Later, while cleaning your bowstring by the fire, he dropped down beside you with a grunt.

“Didn’t know you needed someone to walk you home now,” he said casually, picking at a loose thread on his chest strap. You paused. “Didn’t know I needed your permission either.”

His eyes flicked to you, sharp and unreadable. “You didn’t say no.” You scoffed. “I didn’t say yes, either. I was being polite.”

He leaned back, resting on his elbows, exhaling slowly. “He looked like he was ready to offer you his entire kill pile just to get you to smile again.” You turned to face him. “What’s your problem, Neteyam?”

“My problem,” he said, voice low, “is that I’ve seen the way you smile at me — and then I have to watch you give that same smile to someone else like it means nothing.” Your breath caught, heart hammering, but before you could snap back, the loud sound of laughter echoed nearby.

“Ohh nooo,” Lo’ak sing-songed, appearing from behind a cluster of trees, arms slung around Kiri. “They’re arguing again. What’s this time? Another boy tried to breathe near her?”

“Or a girl complimented his braid?” Kiri added dryly. You rolled your eyes and Neteyam looked away, lips twitching. Then came the softest voice.

“You’re not supposed to fight,” Tuk mumbled as she padded up, holding a leaf plate of fruit. “You’re supposed to love each other. Like kisses and hugs and babies.”

Both of your faces snapped toward her in horror. “TUK!” you squeaked. Neteyam choked on nothing. “What?!”

Little Tuk blinked slowly. “That’s what mama said happens when people love each other too much.”

The rest of the Sully family burst out laughing. Even Jake couldn’t hold it in. Neytiri buried her face in her hands, half-mortified, half-delighted. “You’re grounded,” Neteyam muttered, ruffling Tuk’s hair. “No, you are,” she said proudly. “You’re grumpy.”

You were trying not to laugh, your annoyance slipping away with the warmth of everyone around you. Neteyam leaned closer, voice quiet. “Still mad?” You didn’t answer, just nudged his knee with yours. He smiled. “Didn’t think so.” And though you didn’t say a word, the way your hand slipped into his as you walked off together made everyone, including Tuk, smile behind your backs.

But the jealousy went both ways, you just went as leveled headed as Neteyam. One day, you sat on a mossy stone near the gathering circle, fletching your arrows and pretending not to watch the lesson. Neteyam was helping Airi, one of the older girls in the village with her bow grip. She wasn’t exactly subtle, letting her hand brush his, laughing too loud at everything he said.

Your jaw clenched as you scraped the feather too hard, splitting it. Great. Across the circle, Kiri noticed. She nudged Lo’ak. “Uh oh. She’s got that look again.” Lo’ak followed your glare and snorted. “Poor Airi. She’s about to get shredded.” You stood, trying to keep your face neutral, and walked over just as Neteyam leaned in to adjust Airi’s arm. “Hmm,” you said lightly, arms folded. “Didn’t know bow training required that much touching.” Neteyam blinked, surprised, and then grinned. “Just making sure her stance is right.”

Airi smiled too sweetly. “He’s very helpful.”

You gave her a polite but tight smile. “He’s also very taken. Or is that part unclear?”

Airi blinked, caught off guard, her hand still awkwardly on Neteyam’s arm. “Oh—I didn’t mean anything, I didn’t think—”

“I know you didn’t thinkt.” You didn’t raise your voice, but it was firm with the same smile. “Maybe that’s the problem.” A beat of silence passed, thick and awkward. Airi gave a small, forced laugh, murmured something about needing to help her mother, and quickly walked off.

The second she was out of earshot, Neteyam let out a low whistle and crossed his arms, eyeing you with open amusement. “Damn.”

You turned toward him slowly, still tense. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” His grin widened. “Say how hot that was?”

You shot him a look. “You didn’t stop her.”

“I didn’t even see her coming,” he said, laughing. “I was halfway through talking to Lo’ak about hunting patterns. She ambushed me.”

You huffed, still annoyed. Neteyam tilted his head, stepping closer. “You know, it’s funny.”

“What?”

“I don’t have a girlfriend.” Your eyes narrowed and put your hand to rest on your hip very sassily. “Really?”

“Really,” he repeated, voice low and teasing. “No official titles. No agreements. Nothing carved in stone.”

Your chest twisted. You hated when he did this, danced the line between teasing and truth, between almost and not quiet.

Then he leaned closer, eyes locking on yours. “But if I did? You know it’d be you.” You froze, caught completely off guard. Your lips parted, but no sound came out. From behind, a snort of laughter broke the tension, Lo’ak, of course. “You guys are exhausting.”

Kiri added dryly, “One of these days you’re both just going to explode from the tension and take the whole kelku with you.”

“I like her better than the other girl,” Tuk said seriously, tugging on Neteyam’s tail. “She’s prettier. And funnier. And nicer.” You buried your face in your hands.

Neteyam chuckled, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Can’t argue with that.” You didn’t pull away. You couldn’t. Not when he was this close, warm and solid and entirely too pleased with himself. And even though you wanted to stay mad… part of you was glowing. Because for all his teasing, you knew he meant it.

A few years passed, just like that. What started as sleepovers and sharing fruit as toddlers had blossomed into something much deeper, something no longer so easy to ignore. By the time you were seventeen and Neteyam had just turned eighteen, the change between you had settled in quietly but unmistakably.

The flirting had evolved from playful to lingering. The touches — brushing hands as you passed, his palm against your back when you ducked beneath the trees — stayed just a little too long. And the jealousy… that hadn’t faded. If anything, it had grown more obvious. You saw it in the way Neteyam went stiff whenever another boy tried to flirt with you during hunts or communal dinners. Just like how your stomach would twist when one of the village girls leaned too close to him, laughing too loud at something he hadn’t even said.

Everyone saw it — the whole family. Kiri gave you side-eyes, Tuk giggled whenever she caught the two of you looking at each other. Even Jake had exchanged a knowing look with Neytiri once when Neteyam instinctively reached for your hand as you crossed a riverbank. Still, nothing had been said. Until the night he finally did.

Neteyam had asked you to meet him just after eclipse, near the glade where you’d learned to climb as kids. You thought maybe it was another stargazing night, like the ones you often shared in silence. But when you arrived, your breath caught.

He had cleared a space in the grass and lined it with soft, glowing petals. A few hung from nearby branches — not too many, just enough to make the air feel alive with light. In the center, he stood waiting, hands behind his back, eyes brighter than you’d ever seen them.

“You remember this place?” he asked softly, watching your face. You nodded. “You dared me to climb that tree,” you smiled, pointing up. “You had to carry me down after I got stuck halfway.” He chuckled, stepping closer. “I’ve carried you through a lot since then.” Your stomach twisted in the best way.

He took your hands in his. “I didn’t know how to say it before. I didn’t want to ruin what we had. But I can’t hold it anymore.”

Your heartbeat like thunder in your chest. “I love you,” he said. Simply. “I have for years. You’re my best friend, my peace, the only thing that feels right no matter what else changes.” You stared up at him, blinking fast, your chest tight.

He smiled, breathless now. “And if I’m lucky… maybe you feel the same.” You didn’t answer with words. You stepped forward and pulled him into a hug so tight it nearly knocked the wind from him.

“I see you,” you whispered against his skin, and he melted.

When you pulled back, your eyes were glassy. “I’ve loved you too. I just didn’t know how to say it either.”

His smile was the softest you’d ever seen. “You didn’t have to. I think I’ve always known.”

And when he kissed you — slow, reverent, trembling just slightly — it felt like the end of a question you’d both been asking for years. Ever since that night under the stars, everything between you and Neteyam had shifted.

There was no more wondering, no more hesitation, no more hiding behind half-glances and lingering touches. Now you could hold his hand openly in the village, sit a little closer during meals, steal little kisses when no one was watching. But the problem was… people were watching.

It started innocently enough. A few days after you’d officially become a couple, Neytiri had walked into the family kelku earlier than expected and found the two of you curled up in Neteyam’s hammock. Fully clothed, mostly, but definitely tangled together, your hands beneath his chest wrap and his lips pressed against your neck like he had no plans to stop.

She didn’t say anything, not at first. Just blinked, paused… and then quietly backed out of the space with a small smirk that left you burying your face in Neteyam’s shoulder while he cursed softly under his breath.

“She’s going to tell everyone, “You groaned. “She probably already has,” he whispered, but he kissed you again anyway. After that, the teasing began.

Lo’ak was the first to weaponize it. He caught you and Neteyam just outside the edge of the forest, your back against a tree and your mate’s hands far too low on your hips for brotherly comfort. Lo’ak didn’t even pause — just whistled as he passed.

“Don’t mind me, just trying to avoid eye contact so I can keep my vision,” he said loudly, laughing all the way back to the village.

Then came Kiri, who found you both late one night when she came to retrieve a healing pouch from the supplies and opened the wrong curtain — only to find Neteyam halfway beneath your wrap and your legs around his waist.

“AHHHH!!” she squeaked, backing out so fast she knocked over a water basin. The two of you froze, staring wide-eyed at the closed flap.

Even Tuk caught you…Twice. Once during a morning swim, when Neteyam pulled you into his lap and whispered something you really shouldn’t have giggled at. Tuk popped out of the water like a fish, wide-eyed and innocent. “Why is your face all red?” she asked you curiously. “Did Neteyam say something naughty?”

“Go swim,” Neteyam said immediately, flustered. “Go!”

The last time you’d been caught, it had taken a full week for Lo’ak to stop whistling teasingly every time you and Neteyam so much as stood near each other. But today, the pull between you was too strong. Just a few stolen minutes behind the large cluster of flowering trees near the family kelku—it wasn’t far, but just out of sight.

Neteyam had you pinned gently to the forest floor, his broad, paint-streaked body curled over yours, propped on his elbows to avoid crushing you. One hand was tangled in your hair, the other… was not where it should’ve been, tugging your tweng slightly aside as his mouth met yours over and over. The air between you was breathless—sweet, gasping kisses exchanged like secrets.

You had your hands on his back, fingers pressing into the muscle at his sides as you whispered, “Neteyam—” Then came a very small gasp.

“Neteyam?” a tiny voice squeaked. Both of you jolted in unison. There, just a few feet away, stood Tuk, eyes huge, hands clutching her toy beads. She looked confused. Then her lower lip quivered.

“Mommy!” she screamed at the top of her lungs. “NETEYAM IS HURTING HER!!” Your heart stopped.

“Tuk, no! Wait, I’m not—” You scrambled up, dragging your tweng back into place, face burning.

Neteyam looked like Eywa herself had struck him. “Tuk—it’s not what it looks like!” Too late.

Tuk had already darted off in a blur, hollering, “MOMMY! COME FAST!” Seconds passed in a panicked blur before Neytiri burst into the clearing, bow drawn—followed closely by Jake, Lo’ak, Kiri, and an already-snorting Tuk. The scene they arrived to? You, breathless and flushed, your hair mussed. Neteyam crouched beside you, shirtless as always, hands raised like he was surrendering to the Great Mother herself.

“She—she thought I was—” he started.

“I thought she was hurt!!” Tuk insisted, tears pooling in her wide golden eyes. “She was saying ‘Neteyam—wait—’”

“Oh Eywa,” you groaned, dropping your face into your hands. Jake turned away, trying not to laugh. Lo’ak didn’t bother trying. “Bro. Again?!”

Neytiri sighed deeply and gave her son a long look. “Great mother Neteyam.”

“Oh my Eywa,” Kiri echoed, arms crossed.

Meanwhile, Tuk sniffled into Neytiri’s side, still confused. “But why was her tweng pulled down again?” You shrieked in embarrassment, as Kiri and Lo’ak started and uproar

Neteyam wrapped an arm around your shoulders and leaned in, whispering with a smug smile, “Next time… high in the trees?” You elbowed him. “Next time? There won’t be a next time.”

It had been years in the making, the two of you growing up entangled in a love that had bloomed slowly and deeply, like roots stretching beneath the forest floor. Everyone had seen it coming—long before either of you were ready to admit it. The glances, the lingering touches, the way Neteyam’s eyes always searched for you in a crowd and the way your laughter always came easiest in his presence. But still, nothing prepared you for the day he asked you to be his mate.

You’d been walking together through the forest, side by side as you always had, your fingers brushing now and then as they often did. He was quiet that day, more thoughtful than usual. You didn’t know where he was leading you until you reached that ridge above the canopy—the one with the clearest view of the floating mountains. You’d sat there many times before, watching the banshees in the distance, the sky changing colors like a slow-burning fire. But this time, he turned to you with a look in his eyes you hadn’t seen before—soft, certain, a little nervous.

“I’ve known this since we were children,” he said, his hands gently taking yours. “Even before I knew what it meant… I knew you were mine. I want to make that true in the eyes of Eywa. Will you choose me? Will you mate with me for life?”

Your heart stilled, then surged. You had loved him for as long as you could remember—through the awkward childhood years, the teasing, the jealous stares, the stolen kisses behind trees. It was never a question. “Yes,” you whispered. “Always, Neteyam.”

He exhaled, his forehead resting against yours, both of you whispering, “Oel ngati kameie.” His lips brushed yours then—slow, reverent, full of all the promises he hadn’t yet spoken aloud. There was no pressure, no rush. Just love. You would wait for the ceremony. You would wait for each other.

The engagement celebration arrived just a few days later, and the entire clan seemed to vibrate with joy. Music echoed through the trees, lightstones glowing in woven vines above the gathering space. Neytiri had helped braid your hair that morning, her hands gentle as she whispered about her own mating to Jake, about the sweetness and seriousness of the commitment you were about to take. Jake, on the other hand, gave Neteyam a mock stern look and muttered, “I’m so proud of you boy. You earned a good one. Just try to keep it in your tweng until after the ceremony, yeah?”

Kiri hugged you both, whispering, “Don’t think we haven’t noticed all the disappearing acts and stolen touches. Eywa has eyes, you know.” Even Lo’ak smirked and raised his drink in a toast. “To the two worst liars in the family.” Tuk, sweet and wide-eyed, had thrown flower petals at your feet and loudly declared, “Now you get to kiss forever!”

As tradition dictated, you and Neteyam exchanged woven bands of hand-dyed fibers, made from plants you had both gathered together during a quiet week of preparing. They were simple, but beautiful—your initials carved in tiny beads sewn into the weave. You danced beneath the moonlight, your bodies close, eyes locked, his hand warm on your waist. It felt like flying.

Later, when the songs faded and the laughter quieted, Neteyam took your hand once more and led you to your new shared kelku, tucked beneath the giant roots of a banyan tree not far from his family’s. You’d helped build it together, but tonight was the first time you saw it finished. Lightstones glowed warmly inside. Feathers and woven flowers draped along the doorway, and the bed of moss and pelts was soft and inviting.

“I wanted it perfect,” he murmured, pulling back the curtain of vines to let you step inside first. Your breath caught as you turned, meeting his gaze. “It is.”

Inside, he was gentle—so gentle. Every kiss felt like a prayer, every touch reverent. You had both waited for this night, saved yourselves for it. There was laughter and clumsy shifting, soft sighs and long-held gazes. He murmured your name again and again, like a vow. And when the moment finally came, when you gave yourselves fully to one another, it wasn’t rushed or fiery or awkward. It was sacred. Yours. Together.

He held you through it, whispering encouragement, kissing away your nervousness, moving slow and with care. You clung to him, heart pounding, breath catching in your throat when pleasure overtook pain, and you realized just how deeply he loved you.

After, you lay tangled together, your head on his chest, your hand curled over his heart. The air still held the scent of the flowers he’d hung earlier, and the sounds of the forest hummed softly around you like a lullaby. He kissed your hair and whispered, “You are my forever, yawne.” You smiled against his skin. “And you are mine.”

Outside, the stars blinked gently through the treetops, and the moon cast soft light across your new home. And inside, beneath warm furs and whispered breaths, you slept curled in each other’s arms, truly mated, body and soul.

Not long after you and Neteyam were officially mated, it happened — you became pregnant. The signs came slowly at first. Your body began to change in subtle ways: your energy dipped, your appetite shifted, and there was a soft heaviness blooming low in your belly. Neteyam noticed before anyone else, before even you. He started watching you more carefully, guiding your steps when walking through thick roots, brushing your hair away from your face when you were tired, lingering with his hand over your abdomen when you rested. He didn’t say anything for a few days — just watched, waited, and loved you all the more gently.

When you finally told him, you placed his hand over your growing belly. You didn’t have to say anything; his eyes widened, and his whole expression softened into something almost reverent. “A baby,” he breathed. “Our baby.” And then he kissed you — slow and deep and full of wonder — before pulling you tightly into his arms. “Eywa has truly blessed us,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion. “I will take care of you both. Always.”

The Sully family’s reaction was just as emotional. Neytiri pressed her forehead to yours and wept, hands cradling your cheeks as she whispered a mother’s blessing over you. Jake grinned and clapped Neteyam on the shoulder, shaking his head in amazement. “That’s my boy,” he said, laughing quietly. “Starting his own clan already.” Kiri was immediately fussing over you — bringing herbs, creating teas to ease discomfort, and weaving protective beads into your hair. Lo’ak smirked and muttered, “Great, now there’s gonna be a mini you running around,” but even he couldn’t hide the pride in his voice. Tuk was simply overjoyed. She wrapped her arms around your stomach and spoke to the baby as if they could already understand her. “I’m going to teach you all my games,” she promised seriously. “And we’ll eat fruit and swim and make trouble.”

As the seasons passed and your belly grew round with new life, you were never alone. The entire Sully family wrapped you in love and care. Clan members stopped by with gifts — soft cloth for the baby wrap, carved toys, fruits and roots rich with nutrients. Neteyam, though, was your constant. He helped you bathe in the cool springs when your back ached, carried you when your legs tired, massaged your feet when you couldn’t sleep. His hands were always gentle, reverent. He spoke to your belly each night, whispering stories, dreams, and promises. “You are already so loved, little one,” he’d say. “Your mother is the strongest soul I know. You’re safe with us.”

Then, one evening, the pain began. It started as a low pressure in your back, then came the waves — tightening, pulsing, until your body was trembling with effort. Neteyam didn’t panic. He scooped you up and brought you to your kelku, calling softly for his mother. Neytiri arrived swiftly, calm and collected. “It is time,” she said, brushing your sweat-dampened hair from your face. “Breathe, ma’ite. I will help you bring this child into the world.”

Neteyam knelt at your side, holding your hand, grounding you with his touch. “You’re doing so well,” he whispered, kissing your temple between contractions. “I’m here. I’m right here.”

Neytiri worked with the grace and strength of a seasoned mother. She guided you through each wave, spoke calmly even when your cries rose with the intensity. You gripped Neteyam’s hand, locked eyes with him, and knew — you could do this. With his love. With his strength. With your own. And then — a cry. Not yours.

Your baby was born under the canopy of night, with Neytiri lifting him gently into the air, his small limbs flailing, his voice strong and full of life. “A son,” she said, her own eyes shining as she handed him to you. “You have a son.”

Tears streamed down your face as you cradled him to your chest. Neteyam leaned close, arms around both of you, trembling with joy. “He’s perfect,” he whispered. “You did it, yawne. You gave us a son.”

The family came soon after, quiet and wide-eyed. “His name is Eylan.” Neteyam told everyone. Neytiri placed a kiss on your forehead. Jake kissed his grandson’s tiny hand. Kiri smiled with misty eyes. Lo’ak and Tuk peeked from behind the doorway until they were invited in, and Tuk gasped, clutching her mouth. “He’s so small,” she whispered. “Can I hold him?”

That night, your kelku glowed with woven lanterns, the scent of sweet herbs, and the sound of lullabies. Neteyam held you close, his son resting on your chest, and whispered, “This is our beginning. And I will love you both for the rest of my life.” Time had a strange way of moving when your days were filled with joy.

Eylan turned one beneath the thick canopy of Home Tree, surrounded by warmth, song, and laughter. His wide amber eyes sparkled with the curiosity of his father, and his tiny feet already tried to run before they could walk properly. He giggled with wild abandon, often tumbling into arms always waiting to catch him — yours, Neteyam’s, or someone from the Sully family, all of whom adored him beyond reason.

Neteyam carved him a tiny wooden ikran, polished smooth with love, and painted it with soft, natural dyes. “So you can fly even before you’re big enough to ride,” he whispered to his son, lifting him high into the air with a grin as Eylan squealed in delight. That moment was one of hundreds. Every day, Neteyam would swing Eylan onto his shoulders and run with him through the trees, climbing, laughing, teaching him the sounds of the forest and the names of the creatures they passed. “This is your home,” he would say gently, tapping Eylan’s chest with two fingers. “Here, and here with us.”

The Sully family was hopelessly smitten with him. Tuk was his favorite playmate, often letting him ride on her back like a direhorse, giggling as she neighed and galloped through the roots of Home Tree. Kiri braided tiny strings of flowers into his baby hair, whispering gentle stories of Eywa, and Lo’ak — despite pretending to be too cool — secretly carved Eylan little animals out of soft wood, sneaking them into his sleeping furs at night.

Even Jake, who was always so focused, would sit down with Eylan and bounce him on his knee, speaking to him in English and Na’vi, smiling despite himself when the baby would babble back nonsense. Neytiri taught you how to soothe him when he cried and helped you prepare his first bow — though it was mostly for show, since Eylan liked to chew on it more than anything.

And between it all — it was you and Neteyam. Your bond grew even deeper, grounded in shared parenthood, laughter, and exhaustion. Late nights swaying with Eylan between your bodies, mornings where you awoke to Neteyam cradling him on his chest, humming softly, eyes half-lidded with peace. He was the most patient, most loving father you could have dreamed of. He told you that he had never known a love like this before — not just for his child, but for you, the mother of his son.

“Eywa has blessed me more than I deserve,” he said once, eyes locked on you both while you nursed Eylan under the flowering branches of a quiet grove. “You’ve made me a father, a mate… a man.” But peace doesn’t last forever.

The Sky People returned like a storm — metal crashing from the skies, fire scorching the land. In that first wave, everyone fought. Even Neteyam, young but fierce, took to the air with his bow and his ikran to defend what mattered most. For a full year, the Sullys waged war at the edges of the forest — watching, protecting, ambushing.

You kept Eylan close, never letting him out of your sight. Neteyam came back to you every night, stained with ash or blood or both, always checking to see his son sleeping safely in your arms before allowing himself to breathe.

There were nights where he didn’t speak — only held you and buried his face in your neck. “I don’t want him to grow up like this,” he murmured once, voice breaking. “He deserves to know trees, not fire.” When Eylan turned two, Jake finally said the words that shattered your heart: We have to go.

Neteyam protested quietly but understood. “To protect Eylan,” he said, holding his son tighter that night, “we must let go of everything we’ve ever known.”

The night before you left, you and Neteyam stood hand in hand, watching your kelku — the home where Eylan took his first steps, where Neteyam carved lullabies into the walls — one last time. You whispered blessings to the trees, and Neteyam lifted your sleeping son to the stars. “Eywa, guide us,” he said. “Guide our family to where he can be free.” And with hearts both heavy and hopeful, you turned toward the sea.

The sea was not the forest — not in the way it whispered, not in the way it held you — but in time, it became a new kind of home.

Arriving at the Metkayina village had been overwhelming. The open skies and endless horizon felt like another world entirely compared to the thick canopy you had once called home. You remembered how Eylan had clung to Neteyam’s shoulders, wide-eyed and quiet, watching the turquoise waves roll beneath the woven walkways.

You had been welcomed with caution. The Metkayina were kind, but wary. Their ways were not yours. Your bodies were different. Your tongues spoke in a slightly different rhythm. But you learned — all of you.

Neytiri, though her heart still longed for the trees, adapted with quiet grace. Jake trained beside Tonowari, his voice always calm but commanding. Kiri thrived — as if she’d been born from the sea itself. Tuk learned fast, her tiny braids always dripping with salt water, and Lo’ak… well, Lo’ak found love.

Tsireya — beautiful, graceful, radiant. Her laughter was a melody that rang through the cove like birdsong, and Lo’ak fell fast and hard. It was the kind of love that snuck up on him, the way it had for you and Neteyam all those years ago. She became a sister to you, her presence a comfort and joy. Her family welcomed you all in time — friendships forged through hardship, trust, and time. Ronal eventually softened, especially when she saw the way you raised your children with the same fire and patience she held for her own.

You remembered when Neteyam first brought you to the deeper reefs. Your fingers laced, the sun cutting gold through the waves as he taught you how to dive with your whole body, how to let the sea carry you. “This is freedom too,” he’d whispered against your skin as you surfaced, breathless and laughing. “Just a different kind.” Four years passed like water slipping through your fingers, quietly, steadily.

Eylan grew into a wild-hearted six-year-old, just like his father. He was fearless in the water, nimble with his ilu, sharp-eyed and fast. He learned to dive before many of the Metkayina children his age, and Tonowari even joked once that “the forest boy must’ve been born in the waves.” Neteyam beamed with pride, always the first to cheer when his son surfaced from a dive or speared his first fish.

Your family expanded, love growing even deeper between you and Neteyam. One starlit night, under a blanket of bioluminescent light dancing across the sea, you told him you were expecting again. He cried softly, cradling your belly with reverence. “Eywa gives me everything I never knew I needed,” he murmured into your neck. “You, our sons… our life.”

From the moment Likan was born, the Sully kelku overflowed with even more laughter, love, and affection than ever before. Neytiri had been the first to hold him after Neteyam, her hands gentle and sure as she cradled her newest grandson, whispering quiet blessings in Na’vi. She marveled at how much he looked like his father—Neteyam’s strong jaw, his deep golden eyes—but with your nose and the soft curl of your lips. She pressed a kiss to Likan’s brow and then turned to you, tears in her eyes. “Ma ‘ite, you and my son… you make such beauty together.”

Jake, too, was wrapped around Likan’s tiny fingers. Even more laid-back as a grandfather than he ever was as a father, he spent mornings showing Likan carved wooden animals he made just for him, while Eylan proudly helped paint them in bright sea-colored hues. “Two boys,” he’d say with a wide grin, tousling Eylan’s hair while Likan cooed in his lap. “You and Neteyam are in for it now.” But the pride was clear in his voice, and so was the joy.

Kiri, as always, was a natural. She carried Likan around on her hip with flowers braided in his hair, telling him long stories of Eywa and forest spirits. Likan loved the sound of her voice and often fell asleep curled against her chest as she whispered the tales of Home Tree. Tuk—who had long since appointed herself big cousin of the year—took her role seriously. She made matching seashell necklaces for both Eylan and Likan, always watching over the youngest with gentle care. The first time Likan said “Tuk” in his tiny voice, she cried and wouldn’t let go of him all afternoon.

Even Lo’ak, ever the wild one, became surprisingly soft when it came to Likan. He would let the baby climb all over him, even yank on his braids, never once complaining. He carried Likan on his shoulders through the shallows, pretending to be a tulkun, while Eylan rode proudly on Neteyam’s back beside them. “You’re just lucky you look like your mama,” Lo’ak teased once, pinching Likan’s cheek. “That’s why I let you drool on me.”

And Neteyam—Eywa, Neteyam. The way he looked at his sons was enough to melt your heart every time. He was a father so deeply in love with his family that every look, every laugh, every moment spent cuddled between the boys and you in the hammock, told its own story of devotion. With Likan sleeping on his chest and Eylan curled at his side.

Now at two years old, Likan was a constant companion to Eylan — always trailing behind him, squealing as he tried to mimic everything his big brother did. Neteyam was utterly taken with them both. He carved toys from driftwood, told them stories under the stars, and swam with Likan cradled on his back while Eylan darted circles around them. You watched often from the shore, your heart full beyond words. And though the forest still called to you sometimes in dreams… the sea answered back with peace. This was your home now. Your family. Your love.

A few months later you were sitting in the sand with Neteyam, just past the tree line where the sea met the forest, your legs stretched in front of you, your back against his warm chest. His arms were wrapped securely around you, one hand gently tracing the growing curve of your belly — not yet obvious to others, but known, deeply felt.

“You’re sure?” he whispered softly into your ear, his breath warm, his voice reverent. You smiled, fingers threading through his. “I’m sure,” you murmured. “I wanted to wait to tell you until I was certain. You’re going to be a father again.”

Neteyam’s breath caught. He froze, just for a second, then exhaled a shaky laugh of disbelief, joy breaking across his features like sunlight. He kissed your cheek, your temple, your jaw, your shoulder — then rested his forehead against yours. “Three,” he whispered. “We’re going to have three.”

You both waited until that evening to tell the family. The Sully kelku was alive with laughter and light. Tuk was trying to balance Likan on her back like a pa’li, and Eylan was using a shell to make “soup” out of seawater and sand. Lo’ak and Kiri arguing about minuscule things making Tsireya laugh. Jake and Neytiri sat by the fire, smiling at the chaos around them. When you took Neteyam’s hand and stood, all eyes turned.

“We have something to share,” Neteyam said, his voice gentle but steady. You couldn’t stop smiling as he placed a proud hand over your belly. “We’re expecting again.”

Gasps echoed. Tuk squealed, running to throw her arms around your waist. Neytiri rose quickly, mist in her eyes as she cupped your cheeks, her joy immediate. “Eywa has blessed us,” she whispered. Jake let out a whoop and clapped Neteyam hard on the back. Lo’ak tackled him in congratulations, and Kiri and Tsireya wrapped you both in a long, warm hug.

Even Ronal and Tonowari sent over gifts the next day — strands of woven pearls for you, a carved bone teether for the baby, a set of tiny sea-colored wraps. The whole village celebrated. For a while, everything was peace and laughter and hope. Until the demon ship came.

It was fast — the sky people returning in brutal force. The hunting party never returned. Roa, Ronal’s spirit sister, was slaughtered along with her calf. The waves turned red. The village turned silent. Jake called for the warriors to move — and Neteyam turned to you, gripping your arms tightly.

“Stay,” he whispered, his voice low but firm. “Stay here. Watch the boys. Don’t leave the kelku, no matter what. I’ll come back. I promise.” Your heart twisted, but you nodded. You kissed him once, then again, pressing your forehead to his. “Come back to me,” you whispered.

Hours later, too many hours in your opinion passed, the sky and see had matching shades of orange when Kiri came stumbling in, “come, come, he is hurt.” She stuttered out and you didn’t need another word picking yourself up and running to the healer's mauri. Kiri close behind with Likan in her hip and Eylan clutching her hand.

The healer’s mauri was already crowded by the time you ran through the reef village. She hadn’t said much after those word—just “Neteyam” and “shot”—and that alone had been enough to steal your breath, to send your thoughts into a panicked spiral. You didn’t even stop to ask if he was alive. You couldn’t. You didn’t want to hear anything but “yes.”

Your chest was tight, your throat aching with the pressure of a scream that hadn’t yet found air. Kiri’s footsteps splashed behind you through shallow tidepools, your two sons in her arms and at her heels. You didn’t dare turn around. You were focused on one thing.

When you reached the healer’s mauri, you pushed aside the flap without hesitation—and froze. He was there. Laid out on a woven mat, bloodied and still. The wail that tore out of you was immediate, raw and unrestrained. “Neteyam!”

Jake was already kneeling beside his son, hands stained red, whispering soft prayers to Eywa. Neytiri sat with her forehead pressed against Neteyam’s hand, tears streaking her face. Lo’ak stood rigid in the corner, jaw clenched so tight it looked like he might crack his own teeth. Tuk, curled in Neytiri’s lap, was wide-eyed and quiet, too young to understand all of it but old enough to feel the fear. When you stumbled in, the room shifted instantly.

You fell to your knees beside Neteyam, grabbing his hand, sobbing so violently it was hard to breathe. “Please—Neteyam, wake up. Wake up! Please!”

Jake reached for your shoulder, trying to steady you, but you pulled away, your entire body curling over Neteyam’s as if your love alone could protect him from whatever force had done this. “Mama?” Eylan’s little voice broke behind you. You turned around sharply, wild-eyed, as Kiri entered, holding Likan on her hip and Eylan’s hand. The boys stopped short at the sight of their father.

“Mama, what’s wrong with sempu?” Eylan asked, clutching Kiri’s leg, voice quivering. “Why is he all red?” Your breath hitched. Likan looked around, confused and teary. “Is Daddy sleeping?” You pressed your hands to your mouth, eyes wide and brimming with tears. You tried to speak, but nothing came out—only broken sobs.

Kiri gently passed Likan to Neytiri, who cradled him and Tuk together, her arms trembling. Jake picked Eylan up and sat down beside you on the mat, placing the boy in your lap and anchoring your shaking hands around him.

“Breathe, sweetheart,” he said, firmly but gently. “I know. I know it’s hard. But he’s alive. He’s fighting. Look at him.”

You barely heard him. Your eyes were locked on Neteyam’s face, unmoving, pale save for the angry red of dried blood. Eylan looked up at you, his tiny hand pressing to your cheek. “Why are you crying?” he asked, sniffling. “Is Daddy gonna go to Eywa?”

“No!” you gasped out, shaking your head too fast. “No, no, baby—he—he’s not—he’s not—” You couldn’t even finish. You broke again, hugging Eylan to your chest, your other hand reaching toward Neteyam even as your entire body shook.

Neytiri passed Likan to Lo’ak, who gently bounced him as he stood, whispering, “It’s okay, little guy, Daddy’s gonna be okay.” But you could see his jaw trembling too, the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. Neytiri came to you, kneeling beside you and pulling you into her arms, guiding your head to her shoulder while you sobbed.

“You are not alone,” she whispered, voice thick with emotion. “You don’t carry this alone.” Kiri had tears on her face too, but she wiped them away as she pressed a damp cloth to Neteyam’s brow. “We got to him in time,” she said quietly, mostly for your sake. “Tsireya stopped the bleeding. He just needs rest. Healing.”

Jake was silent for a long moment; his eyes locked on his eldest son. Then he reached over, brushing Eylan’s curls out of his eyes, and said, “Your dad’s the strongest person I know, kiddo. He’ll wake up. You’ll see.”

You just cried harder, holding your boy as if they were the only thing keeping you tethered to the ground. And all the while, Neteyam lay still, his hand warm in yours. A breath of life—but only barely.

You clutched Eylan to your chest, holding him so tightly he whimpered, confused, but not resisting. His round eyes flicked between you and his father’s unmoving body. His little fingers fisted in your hair as your cries began—raw, broken, guttural. You were saying his name over and over, as if it alone could tether his soul back to you. “Neteyam… please… please…”

You barely noticed Lo’ak nearby, now crouched low, arms full of Likan who writhed and whimpered and cried against his uncle’s chest. The toddler was panicking, struggling to reach for you, reaching out with one hand while he clung to Lo’ak with the other. His small voice was cracked from crying, his face wet with tears, overwhelmed by the sight of both his parents falling apart in front of him. You didn’t notice Kiri until she was right beside you. She didn’t speak.

She simply knelt, calm and sure, and slid her arms under Eylan’s small body. He resisted only briefly, but the tears on your face, the shaking of your shoulders, it frightened him. He let go of your neck and went into Kiri’s hold, his lower lip trembling as she stood and turned away, taking him to the edge of the mauri.

Only when his weight left your arms did you suddenly feel how hollow they were. You turned back to Neteyam, grabbing at his hand, kissing it, whispering to him as tears continued to pour from your chin to his bare chest. Your trembling fingers brushed his braids back from his sweat-damp face, desperate for anything, any sign—any flicker.

Likan was screaming now—soft, broken screams of confusion and fear. Neytiri appeared behind Lo’ak, arms open, and Lo’ak handed his little nephew off gently. Likan’s tiny fists pounded at her shoulder, face pressed to her neck as she rocked him, whispering softly, shielding him from the sight of his father.

The mauri entrance stirred Ronal entered first, sharp-eyed and focused, followed closely by Tsireya and two other healers. Their arms were full of salves, herbs, warm cloth. The moment they entered, the air changed urgency replacing fear. “You must move,” Ronal said, not cruelly, but firm.

“No,” you gasped, clutching Neteyam’s arm, burying your face in his shoulder. “No, I can’t—he needs me—I need to stay—”

“He will not survive if we cannot reach him,” she said, already setting her things beside him. Tsireya crossed to the other side and knelt. Her voice was softer, coaxing. “Please. Let us help him. You’ve done all you can.”

You didn’t hear yourself sob. You didn’t feel your body convulsing with every breath. But the arms that pulled you back were familiar—Jake’s. You resisted at first, claws curling into the woven mat. “No—no, please—I can’t—please, no—”

Neytiri approached, still rocking Likan, who was hiccuping against her shoulder, his little voice warbling with the last of his strength. She kissed his head and crouched beside you. “Let them save him, ma’ite. You must let go for now.”

“No, no no no I can’t,” you whispered through choked sobs. Jake pulled you back slowly, and you crumbled into him, your face buried in his chest as your hands reached blindly for your mate.

Kiri was nearby, holding Eylan close, whispering softly. Lo’ak paced beside her, running his fingers through his hair, glancing back constantly at Neteyam. Tuk stood just behind her mother, silent, holding her own tears in a tight, trembling grip. And there, in that mauri, with your heart breaking open and your sons crying for comfort you couldn’t give, you watched as the only person who could soothe your storm lay still unmoving while the healers began their quiet, desperate work. The moment the flap of the healer’s mauri closed behind you; it felt like the world fell silent—then exploded into anguish.

You dropped to the sand as if your legs no longer knew how to hold you. Jake had carried you out, his hands firm but careful, his jaw clenched with grief. He tried to speak, but you had already broken into pieces in his arms, and there were no words that could hold your weight now. Gently, he set you down and immediately turned back for Tuk, who had come stumbling out moments after, her face a pale mask of confusion.

She didn’t speak. Didn’t cry. Her wide eyes just watched her family unravel. Jake bent down, scooped her into his arms, and held her like she was the last solid thing in his life. He kissed her forehead again and again as she clung to him, asking over and over, “Is going to Neteyam okay daddy?” Jake had no answers.

You knelt just beyond the entrance, in the pale sand outside the mauri, your body trembling uncontrollably. The sobs that escaped you were unhinged—raw, cracking your chest open in a way that made Lo’ak look away, jaw tight, his own eyes shining. You gasped like you couldn’t find the air. Like breathing itself betrayed you. You clutched your stomach—your growing belly—and cried out his name.

“Neteyam! Neteyam! Please—please! Wake up! I can’t—he can’t—” The words never finished. Your throat closed around them.

Lo’ak was the one who caught you this time, sliding to his knees and pulling you into him. You fought him at first—your hands pushing against his chest, trembling with the desire to get back inside, to feel Neteyam’s warmth, to stop this nightmare. But Lo’ak held you, arms locked tight around you like a brace, grounding you when the world kept spinning. You crumpled into him, shaking violently, your sobs muffled in his chest. “He’s cold, Lo’ak. He was so cold. He looked—he looked—gone.”

Lo’ak couldn’t speak for a moment. His throat was thick, lips trembling. He closed his eyes, pressing his cheek against the crown of your head. His voice was hoarse when he finally said, “But he’s not. He’s not gone. He’s alive. Tsireya stopped the bleeding. Ronal’s working on him now. He’s gonna pull through. He has to.” Your arms clung to him like a lifeline. “I need him… I need him…”

“I know,” he whispered. “We all do.” Nearby, Kiri sat cross-legged in the sand, Eylan tucked into her lap. The little boy was crying silently now, exhausted, tears streaking his cheeks as he leaned into her chest. She ran her fingers through his hair, whispering soft reassurances even as her own face was stiff with fear. She kept glancing toward the mauri, her heart clearly still with her brother.

Likan was still in Neytiri’s arms, wailing louder now—not because of Neteyam’s absence, but because he could feel the pain in his family, see the desperation in your cries. “Mama! Mamaaaa!” he hiccuped into his grandmother’s neck, reaching his arms toward you, but Neytiri gently rocked him and whispered, “Shh, little one. Let her breathe. She’s just scared. She loves you. She loves your sempu.”

Jake, holding Tuk close, had crouched in the sand a short distance away. His face was stone, but his eyes—red and glossy—betrayed the cracks inside. He held Tuk’s small head against his shoulder as she finally started crying, her confusion becoming real fear. “Why is she screaming?” she asked. “Why can’t we go help?”

“She’s scared,” Jake said softly. “And we’re just waiting now. Giving Neteyam time to be okay.”

Kiri gently leaned her head down, pressing her forehead to Eylan’s. “Your daddy’s strong, ma ‘itan,” she murmured. “He’s going to be okay. But you need to be brave too, alright? Your mama needs you to be brave.”

You didn’t hear any of it. You couldn’t. Everything was a blur. A tunnel of sound—your heart pounding, your sobs relentless, your baby squirming in your belly as if they, too, could feel your terror. Lo’ak held you as your cries lost their sound and became breathless heaves, his own hands trembling as he wiped the tears from your cheeks.

“You can’t fall apart,” he said, but the words weren’t harsh. They were trembling. “Not yet. Not when he’s still fighting in there. You know Neteyam. He’d never leave you. He wouldn’t.”

The world was muffled behind your tears. But your ears caught the soft, broken cries of your sons again, and your heart lurched. Your lungs burned as you forced yourself to look around.

Likan was still in Neytiri’s arms, clinging tightly to her as fat tears rolled down his round cheeks. At two years old, he didn’t understand any of this—just that something was terribly wrong. He let out a pitiful whimper, burying his face in her shoulder, sniffling and murmuring, “Mama… mama, dada… where dada?”

Eylan sat quietly now in Kiri’s lap just a few steps away, tear tracks fresh on his cheeks, his little fingers curled in the fabric of her chest wrap as he looked between you and the mauri hut. His voice was quiet but clear. “Why won’t Daddy wake up?” You broke. Again. But this time it was different. This time you didn’t fall into your grief—you leaned into your sons.

Lo’ak gently released you as you dropped to your knees, arms open for Eylan. Kiri didn’t hesitate; she leaned down and let your boy shuffle into your arms. He clung to you instantly, curling against your chest, his little breaths shaky.

“I’m here,” you whispered, your voice hoarse. “I’m right here, my love.”

You felt movement behind you—Neytiri came forward and knelt beside you in the sand. Her arms eased Likan into yours, his soft, warm body curling against your other side. The moment your arms closed around him, he gave a wobbly cry and pushed his face into your neck, still trying to speak through his distress.

“Dada hurt? Dada owie?”

“No, baby,” you murmured, rocking them gently, tears still falling. “He’s going to be okay… He’s just sleeping. Just sleeping…” And then, finally, the world slowed.

The sky darkened above you as the sun dipped lower, the air thick with salt and grief. You sat there, tucked beside the mauri, your sons pressed tightly to your chest, tears still running silently down your face. The rest of the family formed around you.

Jake sat just behind Neytiri, arms wrapped protectively around Tuk, who trembled in his lap but didn’t make a sound. She stared at the entrance of the healer’s mauri like it might swallow her whole. Kiri curled next to you, brushing your hair back, her own eyes rimmed red but her touch soft, calming.

Lo’ak finally lowered himself to the sand beside you and sat in silence, head in his hands, his shoulders rising and falling with shallow breaths. One of his knees bumped against yours—close, supportive. He didn’t say anything more. No one did.

For a long time, the Sully family simply sat in a circle around you. Pressed together. Supporting each other in silence. Each face painted with pain and fear; each heart suspended between hope and horror. But together.

You clutched Eylan and Likan closer, your lips brushing their hair, whispering soft things that didn’t always make sense—just your voice, soothing, constant, loving. And in that quiet, broken moment, you remembered: you were still a family. Still together.

The night had long since fallen, the sky above painted with stars scattered like beads of light across deep ocean blue. The air was cool now, and the soft crash of waves against the reef was the only thing filling the silence outside the healer’s mauri. The Sully family hadn’t moved far — they couldn’t. Not with Neteyam still inside, still unconscious.

You were seated on the sand, legs folded, your arms wrapped tightly around both of your sons. Eylan was curled in your lap, his tiny fingers clutching the fabric of your chest wrap. He’d cried until his voice broke, then fallen asleep against you, lips still quivering in dreams. Likan, your littlest one, had cried himself hoarse in Lo’ak’s arms. When your sobs had calmed just enough to take him back, Lo’ak wordlessly passed him over, holding the back of your hand for a moment as he did, grounding you without needing to speak.

Now, Likan lay tucked across your legs like a baby ilu, one hand curled in your songcord, the other clutching his father’s discarded sash. His cheek was wet, pressed to your belly where his unborn sibling stirred gently in your womb — safe, for now. His small chest rose and fell with heavy, exhausted breaths.

Lo’ak sat directly beside you now. He hadn’t left your side since you’d been dragged from the mauri. His arm brushed yours, his shoulder nearly touching. Though he wasn’t saying much, the tension in his posture spoke volumes — hunched slightly forward, fingers fidgeting over a seashell bracelet, jaw clenched like he was fighting every wave of panic. His eyes, normally so full of mischief and light, were dim. He kept glancing toward the mauri flap like if he blinked, something would change.

Jake sat not far off, his strong arms wrapped around a sleeping Tuk. She was curled tightly in his lap, her small face still damp with tears. Neytiri had one hand on your back, rubbing slowly, her presence like a warm fire in the cold. Kiri was nearby too, legs pulled close to her chest, her gaze occasionally drifting to you and the boys, then back to the healer’s tent.

Tonowari stood quietly at a respectful distance, his wife having disappeared back inside some time ago. Aonung sat cross-legged just behind Lo’ak, giving space, but still clearly there — watching his friend, his second brother, with the protectiveness of someone who’d become family too. No one spoke.

The stillness was heavy, the kind of silence born from fear and hope and bone-deep exhaustion. But Neteyam was alive. You repeated that over and over in your mind like a prayer, like a chant to keep your heart from tearing again. Neteyam is alive. He is breathing.

You tightened your arms around your boys. Lo’ak’s hand reached over in the quiet and touched your shoulder, squeezing gently. You leaned into him for a moment — both of you needing it more than you’d ever say out loud.

The flap of the healer’s mauri finally shifted. Everyone’s head snapped up, every breath caught. You clutched your sons tighter, both still asleep against your chest and belly, and Lo’ak’s hand instinctively moved from your shoulder to your back, steadying you.

Ronal was the first to emerge. Her expression, always unreadable, was softer now — solemn, but without panic. Her hands were streaked with drying blood up to the forearms, her chest rising in quiet, measured breaths. Tsireya followed a heartbeat later, her eyes already shining with unshed tears, but her mouth curled in a small, hopeful smile.

“He lives,” Ronal said gently, looking at the circle of broken hearts around her. Your breath hitched, and Neytiri gasped softly beside you. Jake let out a quiet, choked sound and pressed his lips to Tuk’s hair, hugging her closer in his arms.

Lo’ak slumped forward, burying his face in his hands with a trembling exhale. Your heart stuttered in your chest.

“He is stable,” Tsireya continued, stepping forward, her voice softer, for you. “The wound was deep… but it missed anything vital. We have stitched it well and given him salves for pain. He is sleeping now — deeply. He may not wake for some time… but his spirit is strong.”

You couldn’t stop the tears. Silent, steady drops falling down your cheeks, soaking into Eylan’s curls. “He’ll wake up?” you asked, barely a whisper.

Ronal nodded. “Yes. In time. But he must rest. His body must heal.” Your arms tightened around your children. You nodded through your tears, leaning your head down to kiss both your sons on their brows. Neteyam wasn’t lost. Not this time. Not this battle.

Kiri let out a shuddering breath and leaned into Neytiri’s side. Neytiri took her hand. Jake looked to the sky as if thanking Eywa herself.

Aonung stepped forward and crouched next to Lo’ak, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. “Brother will be alright,” he said simply. Lo’ak just nodded, still pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes, silent tears slipping through.

Tonowari stepped forward at last, kneeling beside you. “You are welcome to stay here, all of you,” he said gently. “As long as you need. You are not alone.”

You looked up at him through your blurred vision and nodded gratefully. “Thank you… thank you…” Ronal placed a hand gently on your head — a rare, maternal gesture from her. “Soon, you may see him. Not yet. But soon.” You nodded again, your throat too tight for words, and pressed your cheek to Eylan’s little shoulder.

After that night, the one that tore the sky open above you — it was Neytiri who suggested moving Neteyam. She spoke quietly, like she might break if she raised her voice. “He should be home,” she said, eyes red-rimmed. “With you. With his sons. Where he belongs.”

And so, gently, the family helped you move him to your mauri — the small sea-shelled home you and Neteyam built with woven love and endless laughter, now filled with echoing silence. Jake carried his son’s weight like a ghost, Kiri and Lo’ak flanking either side. You stayed close, one hand on Neteyam’s chest, the other wrapped protectively around your swollen belly.

It wasn’t far from the Sully mauri. Close enough that no one ever knocked, and no one ever asked to enter. And so, your home became the heart of the family — the place everyone gathered, watched, waited. Grieved. Nights were the hardest. The soft sounds of the ocean couldn’t mask the ache.

Eylan slept between you and Neteyam, fingers always curled in his father’s braids. He would whisper, childlike and sure, “I think Daddy can still hear me. Right, Mama?” And though your heart would squeeze in pain, you nodded. “Yes, baby. He hears every word.”

Little Likan, barely two, still too young to understand, would crawl across Neteyam’s unmoving chest and giggle like nothing had changed. “Dada sleepin’,” he would murmur, laying his head down. “Shhh, baby sleeping.” Your heart cracked, over and over again.

One quiet afternoon, as you rubbed your aching belly and tried not to cry, Lo’ak sat beside you, legs crossed, elbows on knees. He watched Neteyam in silence for a while before saying, “You know, he always said he’d be the best dad. Like he wanted to prove something.”

You glanced at your sleeping mate. “He didn’t need to prove anything. He already was.”

Lo’ak smiled sadly. “I think… I think he was afraid. Of becoming like Dad. Of being too hard. Too… heavy.”

“He’s not,” you whispered. “He’s light. Always was.”

The Sully family never stayed away. Jake would come by early mornings to sit near Neteyam’s mat, just watching him with a hard jaw and teary eyes. Neytiri often brought steaming bowls of herbal broths and helped brush Likan’s hair from his eyes. Tuk curled against Neteyam’s arm every chance she got, small voice rambling about whatever creature she’d found that day.

“He’s still warm,” she said once, looking up at you with wide, hopeful eyes. “So that means he’s still in there.”

“Yes,” you murmured, brushing her hair back. “He’s still with us.”

Kiri came often too, singing over Neteyam’s still body, lighting healing oils, and wrapping arms around you when your breath caught from the pressure of the growing baby inside you. Tsireya and Ao’nung came by almost every day.

Tsireya would gently take Likan into her arms and hum soft Metkayina lullabies while you rested. “You are being so strong for your boys,” she said once, when your hands trembled too much to feed yourself.

Ao’nung was quieter, surprisingly so. He didn’t speak much, but he would bring fish, or woven toys for the boys, or sit near the edge of the mauri, his gaze flickering to Neteyam’s form with guilt and worry that never quite left his face. Once, you caught him whispering, “Come back, forest boy.”

It was your little family that held the world together. Eylan curled beside Neteyam at night, whispering stories about jellyfish and fish chases with Uncle Lo’ak. “Daddy needs to hear what he missed,” he would say matter-of-factly. Likan would climb onto your lap and ask, “Baby come soon?” then lay his tiny hand on your belly and say, “Tell Dada wake up. We waitin’.”

And you would lean into Neteyam’s chest, brushing your fingers over his jaw, whispering into the hollow of his throat, “You have to come back, ma yawne. They need you. I need you.”

Even though your world had cracked, you weren’t alone in the pieces.

Three moons had passed since the day your world cracked in two. Neteyam lay motionless on the center mat of your shared mauri, surrounded by silence and warmth and the weight of his family’s endless love. His chest still rose. His heart still beat. But his eyes… they never opened.

The boys had adapted, in a way only children could. Eylan had stopped asking when his father would wake. Instead, he stayed close, laying his tiny reed mat beside Neteyam’s every night, whispering stories into his ear about fish he’d seen, shells he’d found, dreams he’d had. “So when he wakes up, he knows everything, Mama,” he’d explain.

Likan didn’t understand. Two years old and all big eyes and chubby fingers, he still climbed onto Neteyam’s chest every morning and curled up, waiting for his father’s arms to wrap around him. Sometimes he laughed, babbling in half-sentences. Sometimes he cried. You never stopped watching.

And your belly — it was so round now. Eight months. You could feel every kick, every shift of the baby inside. Every night, you whispered to your unborn child as you stroked your mate’s still face. “Your sempu is here. He just needs more time.”

Norm and Max had come again that morning, quiet as always. They carried their strange, blinking human tools and moved around Neteyam’s mat with practiced care. They checked the IV that fed his body fluids and nutrients, adjusted the monitor that tracked his vitals. “He’s still holding on,” Norm said gently, not looking you in the eye”

“I don’t need him to hold on,” you muttered. “I need him to wake up.”

Lo’ak stood near the entrance of the mauri, arms folded tight across his chest, jaw clenched. He hadn’t left your side in weeks. He helped with the boys, helped you up when your back ached too much to rise, helped keep you breathing when everything inside you begged to scream.

That night, Eylan climbed into your lap beside Neteyam. “Mama,” he whispered, stroking your arm, “when is sempu gonna talk to me again?” You froze. Your hands tightened on his little back. “I miss daddy,” Eylan continued. “I think Likan does too. He cries sometimes for daddy.” You couldn’t hold it in. You turned your face away and let the sob break through. Eylan reached up, brushing away a tear. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, baby. Eywa, no.” You kissed his forehead, hugging him tight. “He loves you more than anything. He just… he’s sleeping very strong.”

“Like when the fish go deep for the cold moons?”

“Exactly,” you lied, smiling through the ache. “But he’ll come back.”

Later that night, after the boys had fallen asleep — Likan curled on Neteyam’s chest, Eylan tucked under his arm — you stepped outside. The stars shimmered over the ocean, and the sound of waves broke softly against the reef. You didn’t cry this time. You just breathed.

“I’m scared,” you whispered to the sky. “He’s missing everything. Every kick. Every day the boys grow. He hasn’t even heard this baby’s heartbeat.”

Lo’ak appeared behind you quietly. “I know.” You turned to him, voice trembling. “What if I have this baby alone? What if he never—”

“You won’t,” he said, stepping forward. “We won’t let you be alone. I know I’m not him, but I swear… we’ve got you. I’ve got you.” You sank into him, tears finally returning. “I don’t want anyone else. I just want him.”

“I know,” Lo’ak whispered, pressing your head to his shoulder. “I want him to wake up too.”

Ronal came the next day, her presence as quiet and firm as ever. She set a bowl of warm herbs beside Neteyam’s mat and applied a paste along his temples. You watched as she murmured prayers and touched his chest.

“He is tethered,” she said finally, glancing at you. “You are the cord that keeps him here. Keep speaking to him.” You nodded, though your heart was so tired.

Tsireya came later, bringing new salve for your aching legs and sweet-smelling herbs for the boys. “We haven’t given up,” she said gently. “You shouldn’t either.” Even Ao’nung came by more often now. He didn’t speak much, just brought fresh fish or sat with Lo’ak near the shore when he needed space.

And still, your stomach grew. Every movement of the baby inside you brought both awe and fear. You’d lie next to Neteyam at night, his arm draped lifeless across your middle, and whisper, “They’re almost here, ma tìyawn. Please… please don’t miss this.”

But the days kept passing, and one month later, the pain came like fire—deep, sharp, and wrong. It was still dark outside the mauri when it woke you, seizing your breath and curling your body forward instinctively. You gasped, a broken cry ripping from your throat as you clutched your swollen belly. You knew what it meant. “No—no no no,” you whispered, panic rising fast. “Not now. Please not now.”

Your pain woke the boys, who both began to cry in their half-sleep—frightened, confused by the sound of your agony. “Mama? Mamaaa?”

You couldn’t even answer. You barely registered the door flap flying open, Kiri and Neytiri rushing in. Kiri dropped to your side. “It’s the baby,” she breathed, feeling your stomach. “You’re in labor.”

“I won’t do it,” you gasped, trying to stand—only to collapse into Neytiri’s arms, trembling. “I won’t—I can’t! Not without him!”

“He would want you to be strong,” Neytiri said quickly, but her voice cracked. “You have to be strong—please, for the baby.”

Tsireya and Ronal arrived next, gathering supplies and laying out a woven mat across the floor beside Neteyam’s still form. You shrank away from them, clutching your belly like it might hold the pain back.

“You need to lie down,” Tsireya said softly.

“I said no!” you cried. “I’m not having this baby without him! He was supposed to be here! He was supposed to hold my hand—he promised!” Ronal looked to Kiri, silently asking her to calm you, but before she could move, a voice cut through the panic.

“Y/n I’m surprised at you I really am, this…. this is not how I thought you’d handle this.” Lo’ak stood in the doorway. Pale. Tense. Eyes rimmed red from weeks of holding back every emotion that now pulsed right beneath his skin. Kiri opened her mouth, clearly ready to tell him to leave. “Lo’ak, maybe give her some—”

But he walked straight past her. He knelt down in front of you, gently brushing your damp hair back, speaking quietly so only you could hear. “I know you’re scared. You have every right to be. But you don’t get to quit right now.” You shook your head, voice cracking. “You don’t understand—”

“No, I do,” he said, cutting you off gently. “He was supposed to be here. I know that. And this isn’t fair. None of this is fair. But you’re not alone.” Your eyes welled up again, and you looked away.

Lo’ak leaned closer. “You’re not doing this for just you. You’re doing it for the baby. For Neteyam. For your little boys who still need their mama cause they’re crying cause you're in pain. You don’t get to quit on them. You don’t get to quit on me.” Your lower lip trembled as a contraction surged again, and you folded into it, screaming. “I know there’s a lot of things going on here we can’t control, but this, we can do this.” He caught you as you slumped forward, gently guiding you down onto the mat Tsireya had prepared. The moment you hit the floor, the room shifted.

Kiri immediately began gathering towels and boiling water. Neytiri scooped the boys into her arms, quickly passing them to Jake who waited just outside to rock them even as tears streaked her own cheeks. Ronal positioned herself at your feet, checking how far along you were. Tsireya set her hands at your side, grounding you in soft whispers.

Lo’ak didn’t move from behind you, sitting cross-legged so your back could lean into him, just like Neteyam had done for your first two births. He took your hand in his. “I’ve got you,” he whispered into your ear. “Just breathe. I’m not going anywhere.”

Another contraction came, and you screamed into his shoulder. He didn’t flinch. “I know it hurts,” he said quietly, his voice cracking. “I know everything feels like it’s falling apart, but this baby is yours and his and they’re ready. You just have to help them get here.”

“I don’t want to do it alone,” you sobbed.

“You’re not alone,” he said, pressing your forehead to his. “Look at me.” You opened your eyes—barely.

“I’m here. Kiri’s here. Mom’s here. Tsireya and Ronal are here. You are surrounded by people who love you. We’re not letting go. You can do this.” You let out a shuddering breath, nodding once. “Okay.”

“That’s it,” he whispered. “That’s all I need. When the next one comes—push. I’ve got you. I swear.”

The room shifted again—calm in the storm. Ronal nodded. “The baby is crowning. You must push.” You closed your eyes, tears falling fast, and squeezed Lo’ak’s hand as the next contraction came. You pushed. Screamed. Cried. And Lo’ak held you through every second of it.

Your chest heaved, sweat glistening on your skin as your trembling arms cradled the impossibly small bundle against your chest. She was still crying—tiny and sharp and alive. And Lo’ak… Lo’ak was still behind you, arms braced on either side of you, steadying you like a living pillar. His chest pressed to your back, chin briefly lowering to your shoulder as he whispered, “You did it.”

You couldn’t answer—not yet. Your voice was trapped in your throat, and your heart was thundering too hard, but you nodded weakly, tears falling freely down your cheeks.

Tsireya leaned close, her smile wet with emotion. “She is strong,” she whispered. “Just like her sa’nok.”

Ronal was quiet, checking your daughter’s tiny fingers, murmuring something under her breath maybe a prayer, maybe thanks to Eywa. “I’ll go tell them,” Neytiri said softly, already turning toward the mauri flap. Her hand trailed along your shoulder as she passed. “They are waiting.”

You could feel Lo’ak’s breath on the back of your neck. His voice was hoarse when he said, “She looks like Neteyam.” That broke something in your chest. You nodded, lips trembling. “I know…”

She was beautiful. She was warm and breathing and here. And yet… Neteyam still hadn’t moved. He hadn’t seen her. Not yet. You shifted slightly, and Lo’ak helped you ease backward, supporting you so that you were resting against his chest, your newborn daughter swaddled snugly in your arms. You hadn’t even realized you were still holding his hand until you felt his thumb gently stroke over your knuckles. Then the flap lifted again.

Jake entered first, quiet and slow, with a child in each arm. Tuk still clung to his side, sleepy and blinking, and beside her was your oldest—Eylan, eyes wide with worry, searching.

“Mama…?” he said softly.

Your breath caught. You sat up straighter. “Eylan,” you whispered. He ran forward before Jake could even say anything, reaching out toward you. You held out your free arm, and he climbed up next to you, careful but eager, immediately peeking down at the baby in your arms. “Is that the baby that was in your belly?”

You nodded, voice soft and cracking. “Your sister, yeah.” He gasped quietly. “She’s so small…”

“She’s perfect,” you said.

Lo’ak shifted behind you, his hands never leaving your shoulders, still there like an anchor. Jake stepped closer, kneeling with Likan in his arms. “He woke when he heard her cry,” he said gently. Likan rubbed at his eyes with a little fist, clearly still tired, but the moment he spotted you and his brother, he reached out. “Mama…”

You nodded, arms full, and Lo’ak moved for the first time, gently helping take Likan from Jake and nestling him beside you, right between you and Eylan. Both boys now tucked into your side, wide-eyed and curious. “Look,” you murmured. “Your little sister.” Likan blinked at her. “Mama Baby…” You nodded, kissing his forehead.

The flap to the mauri was still drawn open, and behind Jake came Neytiri and Kiri, the whole family drawn like a tide around you. They didn’t crowd. They didn’t speak loudly. But the space filled with warmth—blinking away the cold ache of the months of silence. Your daughter squirmed a little, letting out a tiny sneeze.

“Oh,” Eylan whispered with a giggle. “She sneezed!”

“She’s a strong girl,” Jake said with pride, voice a little rough as he tucked a few braids behind your ear. “Just like her mama. Just like her brothers.”

You looked to Lo’ak then. He caught your gaze, then leaned close enough to kiss the crown of your head. “You did so good,” he murmured. “Neteyam would be losing his mind right now.” The lump in your throat swelled again.

“I wish he could see her…”

“He will,” Kiri said gently, her voice from just beside the boys. “He’s still here. And when he wakes up, we’ll tell him everything.”

Lo’ak looked at you, his voice a low, sure thing. “We’ll tell him how brave you were. How beautiful she is. How she cried just like Likan and wriggled like Eylan when they were born.”

“And how much we missed him,” you whispered. Lo’ak nodded.

Tuk came forward then, kneeling beside the boys, and smiled at the baby in wonder. “She’s really here…” she whispered. “What’s her name?”

You paused, heart pounding. You hadn’t chosen it yet. Not without him. “I uh— I haven’t chosen one yet, Neteyam normally has finally say but this time we…I don’t know yet.” I tell the family and Lo’ak squeezed my arms softly his fingers running up and down them. “It’s okay, you’ll name her when you’re ready.” He whispered speaking for everyone.

The air in the mauri is thick with warmth, sweat, blood, and silence. Somewhere just outside, Neytiri hums to Likan, rocking him slowly. Kiri is tending to your newborn, her steps soft. Tsireya is quiet, watching the Eylan sleep, giving you space.

It’s just you and Lo’ak now. The curtain drawn. A bowl of warm water beside him, and you, aching and barely awake, lying half-curled under a blanket, eyes glazed with exhaustion. You don’t even flinch when you feel the cloth on your thigh. His touch is gentle, almost too gentle like he’s afraid of you breaking.

“…Lo’ak?” your voice cracks. He doesn’t look at you. “It’s okay. I’ve got it.”

The cloth moves carefully over your skin, down the inside of your thigh where the blood dried hours ago. Normally, this moment is sacred, Neteyam’s hands, not Lo’ak’s. Always Neteyam’s. After every birth, every hard night, every wound. It was Neteyam who bathed you, held you, kissed your shoulders in the firelight. Only him.

This feels too close. Too much. Your voice trembles. “You don’t… have to do this.”

“I know.”

“Is it weird?” You swallow. “You can ask someone else—”

“I know,” he cuts in, gently. Finally, his eyes meet yours. And the look in them — it undoes you. It’s not pity. It’s not lust. It’s something else. Raw, reverent. Careful. Fractured.

“It is weird,” he admits, voice low. “But not because I don’t want to help you.” He dips the cloth again, wrings it slowly. “It’s weird because this isn’t mine. This moment. This part of you. It’s his.” Your breath catches. He lowers his eyes, begins wiping you again — the inside of your knees, the curve of your hip. Nothing improper. But your skin burns under his touch.

“I used to wonder what it felt like,” he murmurs suddenly, “being needed like that. The way you always looked at him after the births. Like he was the only person who knew where you ended and started again.”

You say nothing. You can’t. His next words are barely audible. “Now I know. And I wish I didn’t.” The silence hangs so heavy it could break. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, tears slipping sideways into your hair.

“I’m not,” he says softly. Then after a beat, a shaky breath escapes him, and he tries to smile — the kind that barely holds. “…Though I gotta say,” he adds gently, “I never pictured the first time I’d see you naked would involve this much blood and crying.” You laugh — a strangled, wet sound. “Lo’ak—!”

He grins, but it’s quiet. Tired. Tender. “Hey. I made you laugh. That counts for something.” The cloth slips back into the bowl. He covers you gently, then sits there beside you, elbows on his knees, staring at nothing.

You watch him through half-lidded eyes. It should not feel this way. He should not have seen this much of you. Should not have touched your skin. Should not have looked at you like that. But he did. And you let him. And in the soft dark, with your mate still unconscious and your body raw from birth, you realize… You’re not sure where the line is anymore.

At first, it’s still about the kids. Lo’ak carrying Eylan when the boy is too sleepy to walk, playing with Likan in the dirt while you rest with the baby sleeping on your chest. He never complains. Never acts like it’s too much. But the way he watches you begins to change — it becomes quieter. He’s more careful. Always aware. He doesn’t hover. But he notices everything.

When your arms start to tremble from holding the baby too long, he’s already there before you ask. He doesn’t make a scene — he just crouches beside you and gently takes her from you, cradling her like she’s his own blood, offering that crooked half-smile you’ve seen a thousand times before. Except now it feels different.

When you try to eat, one hand balancing your daughter and the other too sore to lift much of anything, he kneels next to you. No teasing, no fuss. He just takes the food and feeds you with quiet patience, like it’s normal, like you’ve always done this dance. There’s a rhythm forming between you that neither of you meant to create.

“You either eat this,” he says once, “or I eat it and tell everyone you starve me.” You roll your eyes. But you open your mouth. The next time, you lean forward before he even lifts the bite. The first time it goes too far is at the river. You sit on the edge of the rocks, staring at the water, your body aching and raw, and no one else is free. You don’t even say anything. You don’t need to.

“I’ll help,” Lo’ak says, not looking at you. “Just the shallow edge. You don’t have to move much. I’ll look away.” And he does. Always.

But his hands are gentle when they brush your back. His silence is heavy. And when he hands you the cloth and cups the water for you, your hands touch — just for a moment — and your breath catches, and neither of you mention it.

He still returns to Tsireya’s arms every night. He kisses her when she brings herbs to help with your healing. He rests his head on her lap while she hums over his braids. He holds her hand when they walk together, when they sit by the fire, when she laughs too loud and he smiles just watching her. He is still her perfect partner.

But something in him has gone quiet. Especially when it’s just the two of you. He stays a little longer than he should. Touches your shoulder more than is necessary. His eyes linger when they shouldn’t. He steps into Neteyam’s absence like he was born into it, without ever being asked.

And Tsireya notices. Not everything. Not enough to accuse. But enough to pause. One evening, she watches from across the marui as Lo’ak gently lifts the baby from your lap, tucks the blanket higher on your legs, and smooths your hair away from your face. His fingers hesitate there, just for a moment, brushing your skin like it means something. Like it hurts to let go. She doesn’t say anything. Not yet.

You try not to rely on him. You hate how easy it’s become — how when you need something, when you so much as look tired, Lo’ak is already there. You try not to look for him, not to listen for his voice, but you do. And you catch yourself waiting for him, for the sound of his feet in the sand.

You hate the heat in your chest when he speaks your name gently. The soft way he says, “Eat. You need your strength.” You hate that sometimes — just sometimes — you wish it wasn’t just kindness. That it meant something more. Because it’s Lo’ak. Because you love Neteyam. Because you’re still his. Because you shouldn’t feel this.

But you lean your head against his shoulder one quiet afternoon while your boys laugh nearby. And he doesn’t move. He just lets you stay there, still and warm and silent. His fingers brush your wrist — the barest touch — like it anchors him. Or maybe anchors you. Neither of you speak. But something has shifted. Quietly. Unmistakably. And it’s getting harder to ignore.

The baby’s asleep again, her soft, steady breaths rising against Neteyam’s bare chest. You’ve bundled her there every night now — it’s the only place she seems to settle. Her little hand rests right over the bullet scar. Your fingers twitch every time you look at it.

You sit beside them; knees pulled to your chest. The lantern burns low, casting long shadows across the woven floor. The boys are asleep near the doorway, Likan curled against Eylan’s back like a fern folding in the night.

You don’t expect Lo’ak. Not this late. But the flap rustles, soft and careful, and he steps in — quiet, like he doesn’t want to wake anyone. His hair’s damp. He smells like the sea. He sees you and stops. “I thought you’d be asleep.” You give a tired shrug. “Can’t.” His eyes flick toward the baby on Neteyam’s chest. “She’s there again.”

“Every night.” You feel the breath leave your chest, sharp and bitter. Lo’ak crosses the marui, lowers himself to sit beside you. You don’t look at him. “Tsireya okay?” you ask, voice low.

“Yeah. She’s… she’s good.”

“Did she want you to stay?” A pause. “Yeah.”

“Then why are you here?” He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he leans forward, elbows on his knees, staring at the fire.

“I just wanted to check on you.”

“I’m fine.”

“You always say that when you’re not.”

You glance at him. “And what if I’m not?” He meets your eyes, steady and too soft. “Then I stay.”

You don’t say anything. Not for a long moment. The only sounds are the baby’s tiny sighs, the breath of the wind outside, the creak of the marui walls. You shift, hugging your knees tighter.

“I miss him,” you whisper. “Even though he’s right there. I miss him like he’s already—” Lo’ak turns quickly, hand reaching for yours. He grips it tight, grounding you.

“Don’t,” he says. “Don’t say it.” You look down at your joined hands.

“I’m so tired, Lo’ak,” you breathe. “Of being strong. Of pretending I don’t need help.”

“You don’t have to pretend with me.”

You exhale a shaky laugh. “You’re not supposed to be the one holding me together.”

“Maybe I want to.” His voice is lower now. There’s something in it that curls under your skin — a crack you shouldn’t notice, but you do. You turn your head. He’s looking at you. Really looking. The firelight flickers over his face, the high cheekbones, the small scar near his jaw, the dark, aching eyes.

Your voice comes out quiet. “This feels…” He doesn’t let you finish.

“I know.”

He shifts closer, slowly, like he’s not sure if he should. His fingers brush your cheek, just once. You don’t stop him. He leans in, just enough that his forehead grazes yours. Just enough to steal your breath.

“If I kiss you right now,” he murmurs, “will you hate me for it?”

Your heart stops. You don’t answer. And he doesn’t move. You sit like that — too close, too quiet — with your foreheads barely touching, your breaths syncing, your hands still joined.

“I still love him,” you whisper. It’s barely audible.

“I know,” he says again. “I wouldn’t ask you not to.”

Then the baby shifts. A small sound. A flutter of fingers against Neteyam’s chest. You both freeze. And just like that, the moment shatters. You pull back slowly, blinking fast, like coming up for air. Lo’ak leans away, breaking contact, hand sliding from yours. He looks wrecked. Like he’s been caught in something he didn’t mean to start.

“I should go,” he says.

You nod. “Yeah.”

But neither of you moves. Your hands are still touching. Just your fingers. Barely. And the silence between you tightens, not like tension, but like grief. Like hunger. Like everything you’ve tried not to feel has risen to the surface and is begging to be touched.

He looks at you. You look back. He leans in. And this time, you don’t look away. Your breath catches, but your body doesn’t flinch. His hand brushes your cheek again, fingers trailing behind your ear, so soft it almost doesn’t register. Almost.

“Lo’ak,” you whisper. Just his name. Nothing more. But it cracks.

And he breaks. He kisses you. Slow. Gentle. Terrified. He’s not rushing. He’s not devouring. He’s aching. His lips press to yours like he’s asking for permission he already knows he shouldn’t need. Like he knows it’s wrong — but more than that, he knows it’s too late.

And still… you kiss him back. Only for a second. Maybe two. It’s not passionate. Not carnal. It’s not even romantic. It’s just grief. Muted and drowning. A moment where you aren’t the woman holding everything together. You’re not Neteyam’s mate. You’re not a mother. You’re just you.

And Lo’ak is the only one who sees that. When he pulls back, he stays close — forehead against yours, breath ragged. “Shit,” he whispers, eyes shut. “I’m sorry.” You say nothing. Because you’re not. Not yet. Your chest is rising too fast. Your hand is still on his wrist. You can feel his pulse beneath your thumb.

“I didn’t mean—” he starts. “Yes, you did,” you say. Not angry. Not hurt. Just… honest. And it shatters him. He nods. “I know.”

Then a soft sound breaks the air — not from the baby, not from the boys. From Neteyam. A shift. A breath. You both turn. He hasn’t moved. Still and unchanged. But the guilt crashes into you anyway. Heavy. Sharp. You pull back completely, hands to your lap, your chest squeezing like it’s too full to breathe. Lo’ak stands up slowly. “I shouldn’t have—” You cut him off, eyes still on Neteyam. “It’s okay..” you whisper. “But I think you should go.”

He hesitates. Just a second. Then he leaves. And you sit alone in the half-light, your baby sleeping on her father’s chest, your heart pounding from another man’s lips. You don’t cry. You don’t panic. You just stare, swallowing the weight of it — knowing that something has changed. Knowing that if Neteyam wakes up tomorrow, if he looks at you the way he used to, you will never be able to tell him. But you’ll feel it.

The next morning, Neytiri was brushing your baby girl’s tiny curls back from her forehead, humming softly, when you approached. “Can you take them to Ronal for their checkups?” you asked quietly, trying not to wake your daughter. “She wants to see them today.”

Neytiri turned, giving you a look that read deeper than words. “Are you all right?” You hesitated. “I just… need a moment.”

She nodded, collecting the baby in one arm and calling softly to Eylan and Likan. Your boys rushed over, Likan clinging to your leg briefly, then letting go when Neytiri took his hand.

You kissed each of them, your heart squeezing tight as Likan babbled a sleepy, “Mama be back? “Soon,” you promised. “I love you.”

With Neytiri leading them off toward the reef healer’s marui, you turned away. But your heart stayed behind.

Lo’ak was exactly where you expected — perched alone where the reef cliffs met the sea, his feet dangling above the water, arms resting on his knees. The wind pushed through his hair, the waves whispering beneath. You approached quietly and sat beside him, not too close. He glanced sideways. “Didn’t think you’d come.”

“I had to.” He looked back out at the ocean. “I didn’t sleep. Couldn’t.” You nodded. “Me neither.” A pause stretched out. You could feel the weight between you — not heavy with love, not sweet with longing. Just guilt. Raw and too recent.

“What we did…” he said slowly, “I keep trying to explain it to myself. I know it wasn’t about love. Wasn’t even about wanting each other like that.” You watched the horizon. “We were just too tired. Too empty. We found each other in that space.”

“I still hate that it happened.” You swallowed. “Me too.” A moment passed. Then, quietly: “But I don’t hate you for it.” He looked over. “I don’t hate you either.” The wind picked up, salt brushing your skin. “I don’t want to pretend it didn’t happen,” you whispered. “But I don’t want it to happen again.” His eyes fell to the ground. “It won’t.”

“Good,” you breathed. “Because I can’t lose him. And I still feel like I’m losing myself.” Lo’ak’s hand reached out, fingers brushing yours gently.

Not holding. Just… acknowledging. “We’ll be okay,” he said. “Eventually.” Just then — a scream carried across the reef. “GET HER—GET HER NOW—HE’S AWAKE—!”

You both bolted upright. Kiri’s voice. Your heart slammed into your ribs. “Neteyam?!” you breathed. And then Lo’ak grabbed your hand without thinking, and the two of you ran. By the time you reached the mauri, the entire reef was there. Ronal. Tsireya. Ao’nung. Neytiri with the baby held protectively in her arms, boys pressed into her sides. Jake knelt by the mat.

Neteyam was sitting up. Blinking. Awake. Lo’ak skidded to a halt beside you, breath ragged. Your legs wouldn’t move — not at first. Kiri turned to you, eyes wild with tears. “He opened his eyes. He said something—he looked around, but—” You pushed through them all, falling to your knees at his side.

Neteyam looked at you, face pale, chest rising with effort. His gaze slid over you, confused but calm. You smiled through the tears. “Hi. Hey. I’m here.”

He blinked again. “Are you… the healer?” The words hit like ice water. Your breath caught. “What?” Jake turned sharply. Neytiri’s lips parted. Neteyam looked around slowly. “I… where am I? What happened?”

You didn’t feel your legs give out, but suddenly you were leaning forward, gripping the edge of the mat. “I’m—” your voice cracked. “I’m your mate. Your wife.”

He stared at you like you were speaking another language. Neytiri stepped forward, voice soft and shaking, “itan… Neteyam… this is your wife. Your children are here. You are safe.”

Neteyam’s brows furrowed. “Wife?” He looked at your baby in her arms. At Eylan and Likan — their golden eyes wide and scared. His eyes were blank. Tsireya stepped back, hand over her mouth. Lo’ak stood frozen beside you, his face twisted in disbelief, grief washing over him in a silent wave.

Neteyam’s gaze landed on him last. “Lo’ak,” he murmured. “I… I know you.” But even that seemed uncertain. Lo’ak stepped closer. “Yeah, bro. It’s me. I’m right here.” Neteyam squinted, nodding slightly. “You look… older.” And then he looked at you again. Eyes searching. Still not recognizing.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I don’t know who you are.” You didn’t break down. Not yet. But your hand slipped from the mat. And Lo’ak was the one who caught it.

The room seemed to hold its breath. Neytiri stepped forward again, her voice low and tender. “Neteyam,” she said gently, kneeling beside you, “this is [Name].” You watched his eyes flick to her, then back to you. The name hung in the air. He blinked slowly, and something passed across his face. Not clarity — but a glimmer.

“[Name],” he repeated, tasting it. “I know that name.” Your heart jumped. You shifted, leaning in, desperate for more. “Yes,” you whispered. “Yes, you do.” He tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing as if trying to place a memory behind fogged glass.

“You had long braids even at a five-year-old,” he murmured, more to himself than anyone. “You followed me everywhere. You made me that ugly stone necklace and cried when I said it stank” A soft laugh caught in your throat, half-sob. He looked up again, blinking hard. “That was when we were… kids. That’s all I remember.”

Jake exhaled quietly through his nose. Kiri covered her mouth, face crumpling. You reached for his hand, but he shifted just slightly — not in rejection, but in confusion. He stared at your touch like it was unfamiliar. “I don’t understand,” he said again, voice cracking. “Why is everyone crying? Why do I feel like I’m… missing something? A lot of somethings?” He turned his gaze slowly toward Jake. “How long was I out?”

Jake hesitated. “Months,” Neytiri said softly, before her husband could answer. “You were shot. You almost—” She cut off. Her eyes burned. Neteyam looked down at his chest then, slowly lifting his fingers to touch the healed but angry scarring beneath the cloth. His breathing hitched.

His head snapped back up. “Months?” He looked around wildly now — at the baby, at the boys pressed into Neytiri’s side, at the reef around him he didn’t recognize. His fingers curled tightly into the bedding. “I—I don’t remember this place,” he stammered. “I don’t remember being here. Why are we not in the forest?”

“The…the sky people returned we came here because they were hunting us,” Jake said gently. “We all…live here now. Me, your mom, siblings and your wife and kids. This is our home now.”

“I don’t understand,” he said, more panicked now. “Why does everything feel wrong? Why do I know her name but not her voice? Not—” His voice cracked. “Not those kids?” Eylan whimpered softly. Likan shrunk against Neytiri’s side, clinging to her braid. The baby stirred in Neytiri’s arms and let out a soft, fussy noise — and Neteyam flinched at the sound. His eyes snapped to her. He stared.

“She’s… mine?” he asked. “Ours?” You nodded, your voice almost inaudible. “She was born while you were still… still asleep, just a couple weeks ago.” He dragged a hand down his face. “No. No, this doesn’t make sense.”

“Neteyam—” Kiri started, moving forward. “I don’t know her,” he said louder, looking at the baby. “I don’t know them. How can they be mine?”

Lo’ak tensed beside you. You could feel it in his grip. You turn to your boys who were shying away from their father saying he didn’t know them and your heart ached.

Neteyam’s breaths were picking up, eyes darting. “Why don’t I remember you?” he asked again, his voice climbing toward panic. “If you’re my mate, why don’t I feel it? Why does it feel like I’m seeing my own life from outside?”

You leaned in, your hand still lightly on his, even though he wasn’t returning the touch. “Because something happened,” you said quietly. “And we don’t know why yet. But I’m here. And we’ll figure it out.”

He stared at you for a long time. Then whispered, “I feel like I’m drowning.” You nodded, a tear falling as you brushed your thumb over his knuckles.

“So am I.” Neteyam didn’t pull away this time. He just looked at your hand on his, blinking back tears he didn’t quite understand.

And Lo’ak, still kneeling beside you, kept holding your other hand, jaw tight, not speaking a word. You sat frozen, still holding your breath, your hand gently resting on his.

Neteyam’s gaze was on you — no longer searching, just… overwhelmed. His eyes were wide. Distant. Then, slowly, carefully, he pulled his hand away. It was a soft motion. Not cruel. Not forceful. But deliberate. Your heart cracked again. He pressed his palms flat to the mat, his shoulders hunched slightly as if he were curling in on himself, trying to make sense of a world that was too loud, too big, and far too unfamiliar.

You swallowed hard and pulled your hand back, fingers trembling in your lap. Neytiri’s face shifted, like something inside her folded in half. Lo’ak’s arm brushed yours. Subtle. Silent. “I’m sorry,” Neteyam said again, still staring down. “I’m not trying to hurt anyone. I just—” he shook his head, a quiet panic rising again in his voice. “It doesn’t feel real. None of this feels real.”

Jake stepped forward then, slow and calm, crouching near his son. “Neteyam, you’ve been unconscious for a long time. Your body survived, but something’s wrong with your memory. You don’t remember the reef. You don’t remember what happened. And that’s okay. We’re gonna help you through it.” Neteyam barely nodded. He still wasn’t looking at anyone. Only the floor. A small voice broke the stillness.

“Neteyam?” Everyone turned. Tuk. She had slipped through the gathered crowd, her steps careful and quiet. Her big golden eyes glistened with tears as she crept toward the mat, holding something in her arms — a small shell toy he’d carved years ago.

She knelt near him and offered it up with a little smile. “You made this for me when I was little. Do you remember?” Neteyam looked up and froze. His brows furrowed hard, confusion blooming deep. His eyes roamed over her face, her frame, her tiny shaking hands. “I…” he blinked. “I don’t know you.” The silence snapped sharp. Tuk’s smile faltered. Her lip quivered, and she clutched the shell tighter to her chest.

“I’m Tuk,” she whispered. “I’m your baby sister.” Neteyam’s face had gone pale again. “No, I—no. I have one sister. Kiri. That’s all. You weren’t… there.” You could feel Neytiri’s body tense, just a breath away from crumbling. Tuk’s chin wobbled. “But I was. You used to braid my hair. You used to carry me everywhere when I was small—”

“I don’t remember,” Neteyam said, voice cracking. “I don’t remember you. I’m sorry, I don’t—” Tuk’s face fell, and the shell slipped from her fingers. Kiri was already moving, sweeping her into her arms and pulling her away as silent tears streamed down her cheeks. Tuk buried her face in Kiri’s neck and sobbed. Neteyam shut his eyes tight, pressing his palms to his forehead. “I’m sorry,” he whispered again. “I don’t understand why everything hurts.” Your own tears blurred your vision as you watched him — not just lost but shattered inside his own mind.

Neteyam’s breath hitched again. He stared at the place Tuk had stood, hands still braced on the mat, knuckles pale. He didn’t look at anyone now. He couldn’t. And then, like a dam breaking everything scattered. Jake stood swiftly. “I need to call Norm and Max,” he said to no one and everyone, already stepping toward the sat phone near the far wall. “If this is neurological, they’ll know what to look for.”

Ronal moved forward without a word, her face set in that unreadable Tsahìk calm. She knelt beside Neteyam and placed her hands lightly over his head and chest, lips murmuring prayers too soft to catch. Tsireya and Ao’nung stepped back to give her room, their hands linked tightly. Tsireya looked like she might cry. You didn’t move at first. You were still kneeling right where Neteyam had pulled away. Right where he’d looked at you and not known who you were.

It hit you then, all of it. The months of keeping it together. Of surviving. Of healing. Of pretending you could carry all this weight alone. It caved in without warning. Your breath snagged. Your hands trembled. And then you stood, barely feeling your legs move, and backed away. Slow. Silent. Like if you just got far enough away, maybe it wouldn’t crush you.

You didn’t stop until you reached the far side of the mauri, your back pressing against the woven wall. But your eyes never left him. You kept watching. As if sheer will could force his memories back. “Mama?” The small voice broke you. Eylan was at your side, his little hand wrapping around yours, eyes wide with confusion. Likan toddled behind him, thumb in his mouth, clinging to your leg. You sank down, arms wrapping around both of them. And then Neytiri was there too.

She knelt on the floor beside you without a word and pulled you into her arms like she used to when you were young. When you scraped your knees or cried after fights with Neteyam. She knew her son needed her in this moment, but her daughter needed her more. You clung to her tightly, your face buried in her shoulder, trying not to sob.

“I don’t know what to do,” you choked out, voice splintered. “I don’t know how to help him. I can’t lose him again. I can’t.” She stroked your hair, arms strong around you. “You haven’t lost him, ma’ite. He’s here. His heart still beats. You brought him back.”

“But he doesn’t know me,” you said. “He doesn’t remember… us.” And just behind you, Lo’ak kneeled his hand brushed your shoulder, grounding you. “I’m here too,” he said quietly. “You are not alone.” You nodded, your eyes never leaving the figure across the room. Still staring at your mate. Your love. The father of your children. Still watching the way he looked around the mauri like he was on another planet.

The mat was still where it always was, yours and Neteyam’s. But it hadn’t felt like his since the day he woke up. Now, it was you and the boys. Eylan curled into your chest, Likan wrapped around your leg, the baby in the woven basinet beside you, close enough to touch. Neteyam watched you from across the room, the firelight casting your silhouette in soft gold. You were quiet, always tired, always holding one child while keeping an eye on the others. Always doing something. And he… just watched.

He slept on a new mat, set up on the other side of the mauri. The distance felt necessary. That first night when he’d pulled away from you—when he saw Tuk and didn’t recognize her—it was clear. He wasn’t the same. He remembered his mother’s voice, his father’s hands, Lo’ak’s laugh, Kiri’s connection to the forest. But he didn’t remember you as his wife. He didn’t remember the baby, the boys. And Tuk—she wasn’t even born in his memory either. The look in your eyes when he’d asked who you were, never left him.

Since then, the mauri had been a blur of movement. Jake had sent word to Norm and Max. Ronal checked on him every day. Tsireya and Aonung kept their distance, though Tsireya’s eyes lingered sometimes when she looked at you. Kiri stayed close. Neytiri moved between you and Neteyam like she was split in half. Everyone tried to act like things were normal. They weren’t.

You never asked Neteyam to come back to the mat. You let him choose. You never tried to force the baby into his arms. Never corrected the way he hesitated when Likan reached for him. But he noticed. He noticed everything. He saw how you carried it all—how you shifted the baby with one arm while holding Likan’s hand, how you smoothed Eylan’s hair and soothed him to sleep while the others cried. You never asked for help, but you didn’t need to. Lo’ak was always there.

Lo’ak, who should’ve been carefree. Who should’ve still been the younger brother. But Neteyam saw how he moved around you like he’d done this all before. Helped you wrap the sling for the baby. Tied the back knot without needing to look. Lifted the basket out of your way without being asked. Fed Likan. Braided Eylan’s hair. Caught you when your legs almost gave out. And it wasn’t just helpful—it was natural. Familiar. Too familiar.

One morning, Neteyam watched as Lo’ak pressed a hand to your back while you sat feeding the baby, whispering something that made you exhale a tired laugh. Your head dropped forward, and he gently lifted the hair from your face. The touch was soft. The kind of soft that made Neteyam’s stomach twist.

Later that day, you stumbled again as you were going to a fussy Likan, only for a second and Lo’ak was there, catching you before you hit the ground. His hands went to your waist. You gripped his arms to steady yourself, eyes meeting in silence.

Neteyam stood up. The room shifted, just slightly. Kiri paused. Neytiri looked up. “I’ll do it,” Neteyam said, voice sharp. You turned, confused. Lo’ak blinked.

Neteyam crossed the space and reached for Likan, who had been fussing on the floor. His hands were unsure, but the moment Likan saw him, the toddler’s arms lifted in recognition. Neteyam picked him up. Held him. He didn’t even know if he was doing it right. But Likan laid his head against his chest and didn’t move. It was the first time Neteyam held one of his children since waking up. Something cracked open.

That night, he watched you sleep again. Your body curled around the baby. Eylan sprawled out beside you. Likan using your leg as a pillow. You hadn’t even noticed how your hand remained outstretched, resting on the basinet like you needed the baby within reach. You looked like a home. His home. But it felt like you were a thousand miles away.

Lo’ak came in quietly and crouched beside you. He brushed your hair back. Whispered something. You nodded. Neteyam’s jaw clenched. His fists curled in the blankets.

The next few days, Lo’ak pulled back. Let Neteyam help first. Watched from a distance more often than he acted. He never said anything about it. But Neteyam noticed that, too.

He noticed the quiet glances from Kiri when he didn’t know how to soothe the baby. The way Neytiri held both you and Tuk in the mornings. The way Jake’s eyes lingered on him with a mixture of guilt and sorrow. Everyone knew he was missing something. And they were waiting.

Neteyam was trying. Trying to remember. Trying to learn. But more than anything, he was trying to understand how he could forget you. How you could be his mate, and he couldn’t feel it. How Lo’ak could touch you like that, help you like that, and somehow it didn’t seem wrong to anyone, except him.

And still, the baby slept with her cheek to your chest. Likan wrapped his hand in your braids. Eylan reached for you when he woke crying.

Neteyam sat on the edge of the mat, stiff and quiet, watching his own hands like they weren’t his. Max crouched in front of him, scanning a pad while Norm gently rotated a small light near his temple. Every time Neteyam blinked, it felt like he was waking into a world he didn’t recognize.

You sat nearby, the baby still asleep in the shallow woven basket beside you. Eylan was curled into Lo’ak’s lap again, sucking on his thumb — not out of habit, but anxiety. Likan was sprawled across your thigh, little fingers tangled in the strings of your chest wrap.

“I’m going to ask you a few things, okay?” Norm said gently. “No pressure. Just answer what you can.” Neteyam nodded slowly.,“What’s your name?”

“Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk’itan.” Norm smiled, “that’s good,” encouraged. “And your parents?” Neteyam looked across the room at Jake and Neytiri. “Ma sa’nok. Ma sempu.”

“Do you remember where you grew up?”

“The forest. The Omatikaya clan” He glanced around the reef mauri. “This place is… new.” Max nodded. “You came here during the war after the sky people returned. That’s okay you don’t remember yet. What about your siblings?”

Neteyam hesitated. “Lo’ak… and Kiri. I remember them.” His brow furrowed. “But that little one—” he pointed at Tuk, who stood near Neytiri, peeking out from behind her legs. “I don’t know her.” Tuk shrank back slightly, confused. Neytiri placed a protective hand on her head. “That’s Tuk,” Jake said gently. “Your youngest sister.”

“I never met her,” Neteyam murmured, voice flat. You glanced down, heart sinking. Norm didn’t let the pause linger. “And this woman?” He nodded toward you. “Do you remember her?” Neteyam looked at you for a long time.

“I know her name,” he said quietly. “I remember her from before. When we were little. She always followed me around.” You almost laughed at that, even through the ache. “But after that… nothing,” he whispered.

“Neteyam,” Max spoke up, shifting tone. “You’ve lost all memory past a certain point in your life. It’s not unusual in cases like this — trauma, brain swelling, lack of oxygen, coma…”

“I’ve been asleep for months?” Neteyam cut in, sharp as if to confirm it again. Jake stepped forward. “Yes.”

“And you’re all just… what? Waiting for me to get up?”

“Of course we were,” Neytiri said softly. He rubbed at his chest like it ached. “But I don’t even remember learning how to fight. Or fly. Or the war. I don’t remember being a husband or a father—” He stopped. Looked at the children.

“You’re telling me they’re mine, but I don’t feel it.” Lo’ak’s jaw twitched. Tsireya stepped beside him. “It’s okay to feel lost.”

“Is it?” Neteyam shot back, and his tone was more edge than emotion. Silence crept through the mauri. You didn’t move. You couldn’t. Neteyam turned to his brother, eyes narrowing just slightly. “You’ve been helping. With… them.” His gaze flicked to you. “Why?” Lo’ak blinked. “Because she needed help.”

“You seemed very close,” Neteyam said, voice careful. Lo’ak frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You stepped in finally, firm but calm. “It means he’s scared. And confused. And this is all too much for everyone involved, especially him.”

Neteyam looked at you, jaw tense. “I just don’t understand how I’m gone for a few months, and suddenly I wake up and my little brother knows more about my life than I do.”

“That’s not what happened Nete—”Lo’ak stood, slowly setting Eylan down beside him cutting you off. “Bro, none of us wanted this. I helped because I had to. Because I love you. You think this was easy for anyone?”

You stood too, placing a hand on Lo’ak’s arm before it escalated. “Stop. Don’t fight. Please.” Jake’s voice was heavy. “We all did what we had to.”

“I’m not even mad about it,” Neteyam muttered, running a hand over his face. “I probably should be but, I just feel like I woke up in someone else’s life. A stranger’s life.” Neytiri moved to kneel at his side. “It’s not someone else’s life, ma’itan. It’s yours. We will walk with you until you find it again.”

Tsireya leaned gently into Lo’ak, whispering something that calmed him. He exhaled hard, jaw clenching, but he nodded.

Max tapped something on his pad. “We’ll give you space. The best thing now might be small pieces. Familiar things. Let him be around his family. Let him feel things before he tries to remember them. Just live, hopefully memories will resurface during daily activities which normally happens in cases like these.”

You looked down at your children. Eylan was clinging to Lo’ak’s hand. Likan was staring at Neteyam like he didn’t understand why his papa didn’t scoop him up. And your daughter, curled in her basket, let out a tiny sigh in her sleep. A sound Neteyam once swore was the best thing he’d ever heard when you had the boys. But he didn’t even flinch this time. And you had no idea how to begin again.

The next few months were both careful and chaotic — a balance of heartbreak and fragile hope, as life moved forward with Neteyam awake but not truly returned. You tried not to mourn what you lost. He was alive. Breathing. Laughing sometimes. But he wasn’t yours, not in the way he used to be.

At first, it was small things. Kiri brought out the old woven toys they used to play with as kids. She laughed when Neteyam remembered the names they gave them — “that’s O’upey, the angry monkey-bird,” he muttered one day, blinking in surprise at the memory. Tuk was still shy, unsure how to be with a brother who didn’t know her. But eventually, she began sneaking beside him during mealtimes, nudging his arm with her shoulder until he smiled down at her and shared his fruit.

Lo’ak kept his distance for a few days after that first confrontation, letting space settle between you all. But he never strayed far from the kids. Eylan still ran to him when he scraped his knee. Likan still tugged on his braid when he was sleepy. Neteyam watched this from the edge of the room, always quiet.

Neteyam had moved into a separate space near the edge of the Sully mauri which was next to the one you both shared in the previous years. He couldn’t sleep beside you, not with the weight of your shared history heavy on a mind that couldn’t recall it. So, the boys stayed with you, and the baby girl in the woven basket slept at your side. Neytiri helped every night, whispering lullabies and staying close when your arms trembled from exhaustion.

Jake took it hardest in the quiet moments. His son was there, walking beside him, training again slowly, and yet the bond between them was stunted. Neteyam asked him once if he’d been a good warrior, and Jake nearly broke, but he told him how proud he was, how much of a good person, son, warrior, husband and father he’d always been.

“He was the best,” he told Max later, voice rough. “He died trying to save us. And now he doesn’t even remember what he was saving.”

You and Neteyam began spending time together carefully. Norm had suggested building new memories to replace the missing ones. So, you started showing him the forest again — not the one you’d grown up in, but the edge of it, where vines crept low and fruit hung from branches. You told him the story of how you first met.

“You were three, just turned three and I was two years old. I was sitting in the village, and you came up to me and sat down and shared your fruit with me.” you said one day, crouched in the sand beside the mangroves. “And you just sat there with me eating the little piece of fruit you kept for yourself and after that we just…stay together.” He smiled, barely. “Sounds sweet.”

“It was,” you whispered, “and so was the fruit, I knew cause as we got older you never ate fruit that wasn’t overly ripe. It was always the sweetest u could find.” Neteyam didn’t argue. But he kept his soft smile until it faded.

Tsireya was gentle with him, like she always had been. She reminded him of reef customs, reintroduced him to Aonung, and brought him on swims through familiar coral paths. There was never judgment in her voice — only patience. You saw her watching him when he wasn’t looking. Once, you caught her eyes drift to you, and in that silence between you, there was no rivalry. Just pain shared in quiet solidarity.

Lo’ak helped where he could, but he never overstepped again. Not in front of Neteyam. Not anymore. But you felt it sometimes — the way Neteyam watched him carry Likan, or braid Eylan’s hair while you nursed the baby. It wasn’t jealousy, not fully. It was a wound. A gap in time that didn’t make sense.

One night, after a long day helping with repairs near the reef line, Neteyam lingered outside your mauri. You were inside, humming softly as you tried to get the baby down. He didn’t enter. But his voice drifted through the curtain: “What’s her name?”

You froze. You stepped toward the flap, lifting it slowly. “We haven’t named her yet,” you said. “Not fully. We were waiting”

He blinked. “Why?” Your voice cracked. “Because I choose too many names because there are a lot of pretty ones, and you are the one that normally has the final say.” He didn’t say anything. But he didn’t leave either.

Kiri was the first one to make him laugh again. She dragged him to the beach with a basket full of sea slugs and made him chase Likan, who had stolen one and was screeching with joy. When Likan fell in the shallows, Neteyam picked him up instinctively — and for one heartbeat, it felt like the past.

But when Likan called him ‘sempu,’ Neteyam stiffened. “He thinks I’m someone I’m not,” he told you later “No,” you said quietly. “He thinks you’re you. His father. And he is not wrong.”

One afternoon, the sun had barely started to dip beneath the waves when Tsireya brought Neteyam down to the shallows again. Lo’ak followed without a word, as if he didn’t want to leave his brother alone, to keep him safe. It had become a quiet ritual, easing Neteyam into the life he’d forgotten. He was polite. Curious. Observant. And completely unaware of the landmines his presence was walking over.

The beach was half-crowded with young hunters cleaning their weapons and tending to their gear. Laughter floated above the gentle surf. “Neteyam?” Soft, like a breeze. He turned, and so did Tsireya and Lo’ak.

Lina stepped out from a cluster of others, a gentle smile pulling at her lips. Her eyes were kind, the curve of her voice never sharp. She was tall and pretty, wet curls cascading down her back, bow slung across her back, fingers stained with oil from cleaning arrowheads. Neteyam tilted his head. “Have we met?”

“Yes,” she said gently, approaching but still giving him space. “We used to train together. Before… everything.” He squinted, curious. “I don’t remember.”

“That’s okay,” she replied, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “You used to say you could outswim me. You never could.” He blinked, then laughed — and it was so easy. Like he didn’t have the weight of a family he couldn’t remember pressed into his chest. Like something about her didn’t require effort. “I doubt that,” he said, smiling full now. “You don’t look like you swim very fast.”

She blushed faintly and laughed. “You said I was faster than you once. But you also said I cheated.”

“Maybe I did,” he said, eyes twinkling a bit too long on her face. “Sounds like something I’d say.” Lo’ak’s brows lowered slightly. Tsireya shifted beside him, her hand sliding into his as if instinctually — as if to ground herself. Lina lowered her eyes a moment. “You helped me build my bow. Back when my brother broke mine. You carved a seashell on the handle for me.” Neteyam looked down at the bow on her back, then back at her. “I did that?”

“You said it reminded you of a sunrise.” There was a pause. His smile softened. “I’d like to see that sunrise again.” Lo’ak’s jaw slackened, his brother had always been smooth, but he’d only ever seen Neteyam really show interest in you. Tsireya sucked in a slow breath, eyes flicking toward her mate in quiet concern. They exchanged a look — full of too much they couldn’t say out loud. Not here. Not now.

“You… want to walk the shore?” Lina offered shyly, motioning toward the far end where the cliffs curved. And Neteyam nodded. “I think I do.” The two of them wandered off, feet kicking through the foam. Tsireya turned to Lo’ak. “We need to say something.” His face was carved from stone. “Not yet,” he said, voice quiet. “She’s been through too much already.”

“She’ll notice eventually.” He nodded, jaw tight. “Then we’ll tell her eventually.” But neither of them moved. They just stood there, watching their brother disappear further down the sand — toward someone he never remembered, but now seemed to see more clearly than the people who’d loved him all his life.

It was another sleepless night. It had been a couple of weeks now since Neteyam woke up and he was no where to be found. The baby had been fussing for hours, her soft cries escalating into breathless wails. Likan stirred again, kicking off his woven blanket, eyes puffy with confusion and frustration. Eylan was curled on his side but not asleep, thumb tucked against his lips the way he hadn’t done in years. He didn’t cry anymore, he just stared at the wall and sniffled, quiet in that way that made your heart twist.

You were pacing again. Rocking the baby against your chest, bouncing on tired feet, muttering soothing nonsense into her ear. You hadn’t eaten much. You hadn’t really sat down. You hadn’t even noticed the blood on your lower back where the wrap had pulled too tight across your healing skin. The strain of childbirth, the strain of grief, the loneliness of loving someone who didn’t know you anymore — it had started to show.

And no one had said it aloud, but the mat felt emptier now than when Neteyam had been unconscious. Because now he wasn’t there, and you were alone.

The family tried, they did, Neytiri and Kiri checked in. Jake held Likan when he screamed for his father. Tsireya helped brush Eylan’s hair when he refused to do it himself. But they were pulled thin. And Lo’ak had pulled away.

You had noticed it a few nights ago, when you turned in desperation to ask him for help reaching the water jug, and he pretended not to hear you. When the boys cried for him and he sent Tuk instead. You hadn’t said anything then. Maybe you thought it would pass or that you’d just figure it out.

But tonight, the pressure snapped. The baby wouldn’t settle. You were shaking. Likan started crying. Again. And your hands were trembling so bad the cup of water you tried to pour spilled across the floor. And that’s when Lo’ak walked in.

You didn’t even hear him at first — just saw his shadow, crouched beside Eylan, checking on him. The soft whisper of “Hey, buddy,” as he tucked the boy’s arm back under the blanket. Then he turned and saw you.

You were standing near the mat, the baby clutched to your chest, your whole body strung tight. Likan was crying in the corner, and you didn’t even know what to do anymore — hold him? Put her down? Lie on the ground and cry with them? You blinked at Lo’ak like he wasn’t real. And when he reached to take the baby from your arms, something snapped.

“No.” He paused, arms mid-stretch. “What?”

“You don’t get to come in when it’s convenient for you.” Your voice cracked. “I’ve been here. Alone. You were supposed to help me. You always did.”Lo’ak’s jaw locked. “I thought with Neteyam—”

“Well, Neteyam is gone!” you hissed, too loud, the baby jerking in your grip. You rocked her faster, whispering apologies, tears burning behind your eyes. “He’s not dead but he’s gone, and I am so tired, Lo’ak. I’m tired of holding this family together with spit and prayers.”

“I didn’t know you wanted my help anymore.”

“I didn’t want to need it anymore!” Silence stretched. You were shaking. Lo’ak took a slow step closer. “He’s my brother,” he said, quietly. “And I thought… if I stepped back, maybe it would be easier. For everyone.”

“It’s not.” You looked up at him, eyes glassy and dark. “I didn’t ask for this. And I didn’t expect you to fix it. But you were the one who was there. You were the one who held me when she was born. And I know, I know I’m asking a lot of you, and I know these kids aren’t your responsibility, but I need help sometimes.” Lo’ak flinched.

The baby finally drifted into exhausted sleep. You sank to your knees beside Likan, curling him against your chest as best you could. Lo’ak just stood there, like he didn’t know if he should stay or go. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I thought Neteyam would come back and remember how to be everything you needed.” You didn’t look at him. Just whispered: “Me too.”

He knelt down beside you then, hands hovering before gently reaching for Likan, taking him from your arms. The toddler’s sobs stilled a little against Lo’ak’s shoulder.

“You should rest,” he murmured. “I’ll stay tonight.” You didn’t thank him. Not with words. But you leaned into him — just slightly — and he stayed there. Holding your child, watching you sleep with the baby curled in one of your arms. The other reaching for Eylan to try easing him to sleep. But no one said the thing hanging in the air between you. That he wasn’t the one who was supposed to be there. That he shouldn’t have had to fill the space his brother left behind.

Neteyam stayed close. His mauri was just a few steps from yours — the one you used to share — and right next to his parents’. Close enough to hear the baby cry at night. Close enough to sometimes catch the scent of your cooking drift over in the mornings. Close enough that the boys could wander to his mat and sit nearby, even if he didn’t fully understand why it made his chest tighten when they did. But he never stepped inside.

Even as the weeks passed and his strength returned, Neteyam never once crossed that threshold. Not even when he watched you from the corner of his eye, swaying the baby back to sleep just outside. Not when Eylan called out “Sa’nok, sa’nok! Look!” while holding up a fish Lo’ak helped him catch. Not even when Likan would wander over, curious and bold, standing at the edge of Neteyam’s sleeping space before being gently redirected by Kiri or Neytiri.

He stayed in the in-between. And Lo’ak, for all his own complicated grief, never once gave up on him. He came by almost every day. Sometimes with food. Sometimes with little tools or handmade knives — “You used to like this,” he’d say casually. Other times, he just sat, throwing pebbles at the sand as Neteyam stared at the sky. “You talk less than you used to,” Lo’ak muttered one day, nudging him. “You used to talk a lot. Mostly telling me I was being dumb.”

Neteyam gave a faint, crooked smile. “That still sounds accurate.” It was moments like that flickers, glimpses, that made Lo’ak hopeful.

But then there was Lina. She’d been there from the beginning, one of the few Metkayina Neteyam didn’t look at with the uncomfortable weight of “I should know you.” Because he didn’t. Not really. Not in memory. So, it was easier.

Easier to walk with her on the shore after a long day. Easier to practice knife-throwing with her and not feel like a failure when he missed. She’d laugh gently, encourage him, sometimes place her hand over his to guide the movement. She smelled like sea salt and wind. Spoke softly. Never stared at his scars. Lo’ak noticed it all.

He didn’t mention it but, he didn’t stop it either. But he started watching more closely. Not out of jealousy — no, not that. It was something closer to protection. For you. For the boys. For a version of his brother that Lo’ak still believed was inside there somewhere. And the strange thing was, Neteyam wasn’t doing anything wrong. He wasn’t cruel. He wasn’t trying to replace anyone. He was just lost. And Lina, with her easy calm and open eyes, was the only place that didn’t make him feel like he was failing someone just by existing.

Meanwhile, the nights for you stretched long and raw. The baby cried more now. Maybe she felt it — her father just a few paces away, but never close. Eylan had grown quieter, his eyes constantly drifting toward his father’s silhouette. Likan had taken to curling into your side and not letting go, even in sleep.

The family helped where they could. Neytiri especially — splitting her time between you and Neteyam, her heart torn in half. But no matter how many hands helped, you were still up at night. Still aching. And Neteyam was still outside, just beyond the flap of the mauri. Awake. Watching the stars. Not knowing why they felt lonelier than before.

One day the boys were laughing as they chased one another along the shore, their feet kicking up puffs of white sand. You watched them with tired eyes from just outside the mauri, the baby restless in your arms.

She was crying again — not a loud, piercing wail, just that miserable, fussy sound that always came in waves when she couldn’t seem to settle. You’d walked her, rocked her, hummed and whispered to her until your throat ached. Nothing helped today. You bounced her gently, pressing a kiss to her damp cheek. “I know, sweet girl. I know.”

Behind you, there was a shift in the air. You turned your head just slightly — and found Neteyam standing there. He wasn’t close. Just at the edge of the clearing, half in shadow, watching with unreadable eyes. He hesitated. “I can take her,” he said finally, voice low and unsure. “If… if you want.”

Your heart gave a soft, startled flutter. You straightened slowly, blinking at him. “You don’t have to,” you murmured. “I know,” he said. “But I want to.” You looked down at the baby in your arms. She was still fussing, fists clenched, brow furrowed like the whole world was wrong. She didn’t know her father had never held her. Didn’t know he’d been sleeping when she was born. Didn’t know he didn’t remember her at all. But somehow… maybe she felt it.

You stood carefully and stepped toward him. Your arms trembled a bit — not from fear, just the weight of the moment. You cradled her close a second longer, then gently passed her over. He took her like she was made of glass. The way his hands moved — cautious, reverent. His whole body stilled as she settled into the crook of his arm. She squirmed at first, then let out a small, sighing cry… And stilled. He looked down at her. Then up at you. “She looks like me,” he said quietly.

You nodded. “She does.” “I never held her before now?” he asked. “No,” you whispered. “You haven’t really.” He looked away, shame flickering across his face. But the baby — your baby — made a soft, curious coo and blinked up at him with slow, sleepy eyes. His mouth parted, stunned. “I don’t remember her,” he said. “But I feel like I should.” You reached out gently, fingers brushing his arm. “You don’t have to force anything. You’re holding her. That’s enough.”

He looked at you — really looked — then back down at her. “What’s her name?” he asked. You exhaled slowly. “She doesn’t have one yet. I… I couldn’t pick. I tried. But I couldn’t.” He looked at you again, a strange mix of emotion tightening his brow. “You said I used to choose.” You nodded. “Always. I would give you too many names. I could never make up my mind, and you’d just… decide. Like you already knew.” His eyes fell back to her, the tiniest crease forming between his brows. “Do you have names now?” he asked. You swallowed. “Three.”

He waited. “Sahri. Eiweya. Kiriya.” He mouthed them silently. Then, softer than breath — “Kiriya.” You blinked. “That one,” he said. “She feels like that.” She shifted in his arms, letting out a tiny sigh before nestling her head beneath his chin. You stared at them, heart thudding, something breaking and stitching together all at once. “Kiriya,” you echoed. “Then that’s her name.” He didn’t say anything else. But he didn’t hand her back either.

The beach wind had quieted, the tide soft at your feet. Kiriya’s cries had faded into soft snuffles as she dozed in Neteyam’s arms. Her tiny hand rested against his chest; her brow furrowed even in sleep — just like his.

You were watching Eylan and Likan build crooked towers of shells in the sand when Neteyam glanced over at you. “I should bring her in,” he said. You turned to him slowly, heart tapping at your ribs. “Will you stay? For dinner?” He didn’t answer right away. His eyes flicked back to the baby. “Do you want me to?” You blinked, caught off guard by the question. “Of course,” you said. “The boys would love that.” Neteyam gave a tiny nod, shifting the baby carefully. “Okay.”

At the mauri, the scent of roasted yovo drifted over fresh leaves and warm stones. Neytiri and Jake were already sitting, Tuk bouncing between them with a carved spoon in each hand. Ronal and Tsireya moved around the fire, while Kiri passed plates to everyone. Lo’ak was sitting cross-legged, peeling fruit with his knife and chatting with Ao’nung.

He looked up when he heard your voice first — then saw who was walking beside you. His eyes widened slightly. Neteyam holding the baby. Lo’ak stood up halfway, his fruit forgotten. A grin broke across his face before he could stop it. “Bro.” His voice cracked. Neteyam paused, shifting under the attention. “She was crying,” he said stiffly. “I was just… holding her.” Neytiri was already clearing a space near her side. “Come. Sit.” Lo’ak backed up, still smiling, as you and Neteyam stepped into the circle. You caught the warmth in his eyes — not surprise. Relief. Eylan barreled past you, nearly knocking over a bowl. “She’s still sleeping?”

“Still,” Neteyam said. Likan scrambled onto your lap, thumb in his mouth, then reached toward his baby sister. “Dada hold her,” he whispered, proud. “She sleep wike a bug,” he added, pressing his hand over his cheek to mimic her squish. Neteyam smiled — a real one. Quick and uncertain, but real. Lo’ak sank down beside him, nudging Eylan aside just enough to pass him a plate. “You gonna eat or just be the baby chair tonight?” Neteyam snorted. “Think she’s claimed me.”

“Good,” Lo’ak said. “She deserves it. So do you.” You looked over at him, and he gave you a small wink — not smug, just glad. Like something inside him had finally relaxed. Dinner passed in slow waves — small bites, soft laughter, cautious conversation. Kiri watched you like a mother pent up with hope. Tsireya offered seconds. And when Kiriya stirred, Neteyam didn’t pass her off right away. He held her close, tracing the fine wisps of hair over her temple. You didn’t say anything. But when he looked at you and said softly, “I like the name,” it almost broke you. “Me too.”

Afterward, when the children had eaten their fill and begun nodding off against each other, Lo’ak helped clean up. He passed behind you and murmured low near your ear: “He’s trying. I see it.” You looked back at him. “And I’m glad,” he added with a grin. “You look lighter tonight.” You pressed your fingers to your lips, almost in disbelief. So did he. Because for the first time in many weeks, you all sat under the stars together. And Neteyam stayed.

Over the next several days, Neteyam had been around sometimes, other times disappearing off to somewhere in the reef. You honestly didn’t think much about it, having your hands full with the children kept your mind occupied, and ever since the night he had dinner things have been better between you, or that’s what you thought anyways. You had no idea he was off bonding with another woman.

The first time, they were hunting along the reef ledge. Lina was leading him through narrow tunnels in the coral, glancing over her shoulder to smirk at him every few paces. “You’re too slow,” she calls over the bubbling tide. Neteyam grins, swimming harder to catch up. “I’m letting you win.”

“Oh?” she tilts her head, treading water as he nears. “You always this generous, or just with me?” He chuckles — can’t help it — and bumps her gently with his shoulder. She bumps him back.

The second time, they were drying gear near the rocks. Lina’s hair is loose, still dripping, skin shining with salt and sun. She reaches out to adjust the strap of his sling.

“Still too tight,” she mutters, tugging it just slightly. “You’ll bruise yourself.” His hand brushes hers. “What would I do without you?”

“Starve. Or bleed out,” she says, looking up at him through her lashes. Neteyam bites the inside of his cheek to hide a grin.

The third time, he finds her sitting on a flat stone, braiding thin strips of shell into a necklace. “That for me?” he asks, flopping down beside her, deliberately brushing her leg with his tail. She laughs, doesn’t move away. “You wish.” He leans on one arm. “What if I do?” She goes still — just for a second — then smiles again. “Then maybe I’ll make you one. If you catch a bigger fish than me tomorrow.”

“Easy.”

“You talk too much.”

“You like it.” She says nothing — but she doesn’t argue.

The fourth time, they were in the shallows, dusk falling in golden streaks across the ocean. She splashes him lightly, then darts away with a laugh. He chases, catches her wrist under the water, and spins her in a circle. Their laughter echoes against the reef wall. “You’re impossible,” he says, chest heaving. “You’re slow.”

“I let you go.”

“Liar.” He pulls her close again — just slightly — hand on her arm, holding her steady. She doesn’t pull away. “You gonna let go?” she whispers. He hesitates.

And that’s when they hear it. A sharp inhale. Both of them turn — and Tsireya is standing at the edge of the sandbank, staring. She wasn’t meant to find them here. Not this close. Not this comfortable. Her eyes flick between their bodies — wet, pressed too close, laughter still fading in the air. Lina steps back instantly and Neteyam’s hand drops. Tsireya’s voice is tight. “Lo’ak’s been looking for you.” He doesn’t answer so she turns and walks away.

That evening when the tide had rolled in, moonlight catching on the crests as the reef swayed in rhythm. Most of the village had gone quiet — the firelight around the Sully mauri low and flickering. Tsireya found Lo’ak by the far edge of the reef, feeding dried root to an ilu calf. His hair was damp, eyes tired. She didn’t speak at first. Just stood there, jaw tight.

Lo’ak glanced up. “Hey,” he offered, but her expression stopped him cold “What?”

“I saw them again.” He frowned. “Who?”

“Neteyam. And Lina.” Lo’ak’s shoulders dropped. “Yeah, I figured—”

“No,” she said sharply. “You don’t understand. This isn’t just awkward flirting anymore.”

She stepped closer, voice barely above a whisper. “She touched his chest today and he was touching her arm. Laughed like it was nothing. Then leaned into him like—like she wanted him to notice. And he did.” Lo’ak looked away, jaw clenching.

“She doesn’t care,” Tsireya hissed. “She knows. She knows he’s married. She knows you all told him. She knows he has children. And she still looks at him like that.”

“Neteyam doesn’t remember—”

“That doesn’t excuse her.” Lo’ak shook his head. “I don’t think he sees it the way we do.” Tsireya didn’t back off. “He doesn’t have to know everything to feel what’s right. Something in him should know. That kind of bond doesn’t disappear just because you forgot a name.”

“He’s not the same,” Lo’ak muttered. “Not yet.”

“And she’s taking advantage of that,” Tsireya snapped. Silence hung between them, thick as sea fog. “I didn’t tell her,” She said quietly. “I didn’t say a word. But I swear, Lo’ak… if Lina puts her hands on him again like that, I will.” He exhaled slowly. “Don’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because she’s already breaking,” he said, voice strained. “Every day she’s holding it together for those kids, for the family. You think watching him forget her wasn’t bad enough?” Tsireya’s eyes softened.

“She finally got him to hold the baby,” Lo’ak added. “Named her with him. The day they sat and ate with the family. First time in months. It was right before that.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Then why is he out there with her?”

“I don’t know,” Lo’ak admitted, eyes glistening. “But I can’t be the one to break her.” Tsireya nodded once, quietly. “Then I’ll wait. But not forever.” Lo’ak stared at the stars, wondering how long he could keep pretending nothing was burning.

Neteyam sat on the warm stone, legs stretched, hands braced behind him as the waves lapped close. Lina was beside him, knees drawn up, the curve of her smile impossibly soft in the golden light. “Your shoulders tense again,” she murmured, scooting closer.

He didn’t stop her when her fingers brushed along his shoulder. “I think you like touching me,” he said, not quite teasing, not quite serious. Lina laughed under her breath. “Maybe. You’re not stopping me.” He turned to look at her — really look.

“You’re not like the others,” he said slowly. “Everyone stares at me like I’m supposed to be someone they remember. You just… let me be who I am now.”

“You don’t owe anyone a past you can’t remember,” she whispered.

“You don’t even ask questions.”

“I already know the answers that matter,” she smiled. “I like you.”

He blinked. “You don’t care that I’m—”

“Married?” she finished, almost playfully. “You don’t remember that. It’s not the same.” There was a pause. A long, heavy pause.

“I’m still—” he started, then faltered. “She’s kind. Patient. But it’s like I’m supposed to feel something I don’t.”

“You don’t have to explain anything to me,” Lina said, brushing her fingers along the side of his jaw. “You just… feel this. Now.” And then she kissed him. Not a short, confused kiss. Not unsure. This was deliberate. Gentle, but real. And Neteyam—he didn’t pull away, not right away. His hands twitched against the rock. When he did break it, it was breathless, conflicted. “Lina—” She smiled. “You can stop me next time. If you want.”

Behind a rock ledge just above them, Neytiri stood frozen. She had come looking. Something in her heart told her something was wrong. And what she heard broke her completely. Every word. “You just feel this. Now.” The kiss. She almost called him out. Almost walked forward and made her presence known. But she didn’t. She couldn’t. Not when her son — her eldest — the one she buried her soul into, kissed another woman while his mate rocked their baby just a few steps away in the village. Neytiri backed away, breath trembling, hand pressed hard against her chest. She didn’t speak. But something inside her, something sacred, began to unravel. Not for herself, but for you.

The night air was still and thick with the hum of distant ocean wind. Only the crackle of low embers broke the silence inside the Sully mauri. Neytiri sat by the hearth, her body unmoving, eyes fixed on the firelight flickering across her knuckles.

Jake entered quietly, wiping his hands with a cloth after helping Kiri settle Eylan and Likan into their sleeping mat while you tended to Kiriya. “You’ve been quiet all night,” he said, crouching beside her. Neytiri didn’t look at him. Her voice, when it came, was soft but cut with steel. “I saw them.” Jake’s brow furrowed. “Who?” Her jaw clenched. “Neteyam. And the girl.” He sat down slowly, feeling the air shift. “What girl?” Neytiri nodded once. “That Lina girl— Two nights ago. I followed him. I wanted to be sure.”

Jake’s voice dropped. “What did you see?” Her eyes lifted to meet his, burning. “They were kissing. Her hand was on his jaw. He did not stop her.”

Jake swore under his breath, rubbing his temples. “Shit.” Behind the thin woven wall, there was a scuffle of movement. Someone breathing too loudly. Too sharply. Neytiri’s ears twitched. A moment passed before Lo’ak stepped into the light, arms at his sides, face drawn in guilt. Tsireya stood behind him, hands knotted in front of her, not meeting anyone’s eyes.

“I know,” Lo’ak said before either parent could ask. “I’ve known.” Neytiri rose slowly to her feet. “How long?” Lo’ak held up a hand. “I’ve known for a while. Since before he even held the baby. I saw them. First just talking, then… more. Since he started to go to the tide pools the hunters hand out by.”

Jake’s eyes narrowed. “And you didn’t think to say anything?”

“I didn’t know how,” Lo’ak admitted. “She’s already barely holding things together. She’s feeding the baby alone. Putting the boys to bed. Waiting on him to come home. And I just—”

“You should have told us,” Neytiri snapped. “I thought he’d come around,” Lo’ak said, voice cracking. “I thought once he saw her — really saw her — saw the kids — it would all fall into place. I thought the memory flashes were working.” Jake’s jaw worked. “But he kept going back to Lina.” Lo’ak nodded. “He kept going back I guess.” Neytiri’s voice was trembling now. “And you let her believe he was trying.”

“I didn’t want to be the one to break her,” Lo’ak whispered. “She still believes in him.” Tsireya finally spoke, quiet but firm. “Lo’ak and I first saw them. I told him we should say something, but he said it wasn’t time.”

Neytiri turned away, her fists clenched. “He kissed another woman. While his mate waits. While she takes care of those babies alone.”

Jake stood slowly, running both hands down his face. “We need to talk to him.” Lo’ak looked up quickly. “Not yet. Please. He’s remembering. Not all of it, but enough that I think he’s confused. Let me talk to him first.”

Neytiri’s eyes narrowed. “And if he touches her again?” Jake answered this time, voice cold and low. “Then it’s no longer confusion. It’s a choice.” The word no one said was still thick in the air. And none of them could bear to imagine the moment you would find out.

The sky was dark, save for a stretch of stars reflected on the surface of the sea. Small waves lapped at the sand as Neteyam stood alone, arms folded, staring out at the horizon. His back was to the village, but he hadn’t gone far — not really. He could still hear the soft calls of nocturnal birds, the echo of distant laughter, the crackling of fires. Lo’ak found him there.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just stepped up beside his brother, letting the silence linger. The two stood shoulder to shoulder, the sea wind tossing their braids gently. Neteyam spoke first, barely above a murmur. “Did they send you?” Lo’ak shook his head. “No. I came on my own.” Neteyam’s jaw tightened. “I already know what this is about.” Lo’ak sighed. “Then that makes it easier.” A long pause. Then, quietly: “I saw you with her, bro.” Neteyam flinched, but didn’t turn. “You’ve been spying on me?”

“No,” Lo’ak said softly. “Just looking out. For her. For the kids.” Neteyam finally looked at him, eyes conflicted, searching. “It’s not like that.”

“You kissed her,” Lo’ak replied, not harshly, just stating fact. “And you’ve been sneaking off for weeks.” Neteyam’s mouth opened, but no words came. Lo’ak shook his head slowly. “I’m not here to yell at you,” he said. “I’m not our dad. I’m your brother.”

He hesitated, then added, “And I’m hers too. Not by blood — but I helped catch your daughter when you were unconscious. I’ve held your sons when they cried for you. I’ve seen the way she looks at you like you hung the stars.” Neteyam’s eyes shimmered with something — regret, maybe, or confusion. “I don’t know what’s happening in your head,” Lo’ak said, voice low. “I know this memory thing is eating you up. I know you’re not the same. But that doesn’t mean you get to break her in silence.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt her,” Neteyam said. “But you are,” Lo’ak whispered. “Every time you don’t come home. Every time she lies to the boys and says you’re busy, or training. Every time she feeds the baby alone. And she won’t ask you to stay, she has no idea. She’ll wait for you to come to her.”

Neteyam turned his face away. “She thinks you’re getting better,” Lo’ak went on. “She thinks you’re coming back to her. And you are, sometimes. That night on the tablet, when you smiled at her. You felt like you. That’s what’s killing her. She hopes.” Lo’ak paused, then said gently, “Is it Lina?” Neteyam didn’t answer. “She’s not your mate,” Lo’ak said, still calm. “She doesn’t know your sons’ lullabies. She didn’t carry your child. She didn’t sit at your side when you were dying.” Neteyam closed his eyes. His voice was a whisper. “I know.”

Lo’ak looked at him with something like grief. “Then why are you still going to her?” The silence hung, heavy and raw. “I don’t know,” Neteyam said. “She’s… easy. I don’t have to feel like I’m failing when I’m with her.” Lo’ak’s eyes darkened. “She doesn’t ask you to remember.”

Neteyam nodded. “She doesn’t look at me like she’s waiting to find the old me.” Lo’ak stepped closer. “She doesn’t know the old you. We do. And she does.” Neteyam looked at him, chest tight. “What if I never remember everything?”

“Then you start from where you are,” Lo’ak said. “But you don’t build something new while she’s still holding the pieces you left behind.” Neteyam turned away again, swallowing hard. Lo’ak let the words sit. He didn’t demand. He didn’t lecture. Just before he walked away, he added one last thing, soft as dusk. “You were always the one I looked up to. The steady one. The protector.” He paused. “If you can’t remember it from your own memory, remember it came from me.” And then he left his brother alone with the stars.

It’s the next morning. You’re up early with the baby, trying to braid Eylan’s hair while Likan chews on a toy. Neteyam returns from the beach. His shoulders are tense. His steps are slow. You smile when you see him. “Hey,” you say softly. “We missed you at breakfast.” He hesitates. Then: “Can we talk?” Your stomach drops. You hand Eylan the comb and step outside with him, the light warm on your skin.

He doesn’t look at you when he speaks. “I… I need some time. To think. To breathe. Things are getting clearer but… it’s a lot. Being here. With you. With the kids. With the pressure to feel everything I’m supposed to feel.” You go quiet. His words twist in your chest. “You don’t feel anything?”

He shakes his head quickly. “No— I do. I think I do. But I don’t know what’s real and what’s me wanting it to be real. Last night felt… good. You felt safe. Familiar. But then I woke up this morning and…” His hands clench. “I was terrified again. Of losing myself to a life I don’t remember.” You swallow hard. “So, you want space.” He nods. You nod too, but your lips tremble. “Okay.”

“It’s not forever,” he says, voice low. “I just need to understand who I am… on my own.” You force a small smile. “Of course. Take the time you need.” But when he leaves, heading toward the far edge of the village — you don’t know he’s going to see Lina.

you’re left standing outside the mauri with the wind in your hair and a silent ache blooming beneath your ribs. And for a long moment… you just stand there. Because what are you supposed to do? Chase after him? Beg him to stay? Demand an explanation he doesn’t even understand himself? No. You go back inside. You wipe your eyes before the kids see.

The sun had barely risen when he walked away. Soft golden light slanted through the mangrove roots, stretching long shadows over the damp earth. The village was still, caught in that in-between hush before the day began — birds just beginning to chirp, ocean breeze barely rustling the fronds above.

Inside, the air was warm and faintly sweet from the firepit’s embers. The kids were already stirring. Kiriya had begun to fuss softly in her basket, tiny fists working against the woven cloth around her. Eylan sat nearby, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his palm and yawning loudly — a tangle of half-finished braids still jutting out at strange angles. Likan lay sprawled on his belly, drooling into a woven mat and humming something tuneless to himself. You didn’t feel ready. But ready or not — you were their world. And you were not going to let them see you fall. You’ve already let them down too much as it is.

You moved on instinct. You knelt first beside Kiriya, scooping her into your arms with the ease of a mother who’d done this a thousand times, even if it still ached in your chest. She whimpered once before latching against your breast, and the tension in her small body melted almost instantly. You rocked gently, her soft suckling grounding you. “That’s it, my little star,” you whispered, brushing your nose against her temple. “Eat well. You’ve got a big day ahead.”

“Is it done?” Eylan’s voice broke into the silence, scratchy and young. “My braids?” You turned your head to him, gave a soft smile. “Not yet. Come here.” He scooted over eagerly, plopping himself down in front of you with crossed legs. “You stopped braiding it,” he said, not accusing — just observing. “I know,” you murmured. “Mama needed a moment. But I’m here now.”

You finished nursing Kiriya and shifted her gently to your shoulder. With one hand, you resumed braiding Eylan’s hair, fingers nimble even with your youngest curled against you, slowly drifting back to sleep. His hair was thick, like his father’s, and slightly wild — stubborn strands that always slipped from your grip. But you were patient. You always had been. Likan toddled over next, dragging his woven bird toy, his eyes still puffy with sleep. “Hungry,” he mumbled, pressing his face to your knee. You leaned down and kissed the top of his head. “Soon, baby boy. Let Mama finish your brother’s hair.”

“I help?” he asked, pointing at the pile of fruit. You chuckled. “You can hand me the yovo, hmm?” He nodded proudly and waddled off on his mission. By the time you finished Eylan’s last braid and tied it off, Kiriya was burping sleepily against your shoulder and Likan had managed to bring back half a yovo fruit, teeth already sunk into it. You couldn’t help the small laugh that bubbled up. “Thank you, sweet boy. Very helpful.” He beamed, mouth full.

You got up slowly, adjusting Kiriya in your sling so she could sleep tucked against your chest. The boys followed as you moved toward the firepit, preparing their breakfast from leftover grilled fish and soft yovo mash. Eylan fetched the dishes, Likan danced in circles, and you worked — stirring, plating, humming softly — while the sun crept higher outside.

There were no grand declarations. No epiphanies. Just movement. Just being present. Just… trying. Because yes, you were his wife. But you were more than that. You were their mother. Their comfort. Their rhythm. Their constant. And no matter who stayed, who left, who forgot — you would always be the one still here.

The stars were beginning to blink awake as the sea breeze curled through the village, quiet and cool. Dinner had come and gone. The children were already tucked away — Eylan and Likan asleep in their nest, Kiriya dozing peacefully in her wrap against your chest. You sat close to the firepit outside Jake and Neytiri’s mauri, cradling her gently, her small weight grounding you more than anything else could.

Kiri was plaiting Tuk’s hair beside you. Lo’ak leaned against a post nearby, Tsireya tucked against his side. Jake and Neytiri sat across the fire, quiet, eyes flickering between the flames and each other. It was Kiri who finally spoke. “Neteyam didn’t come back with you today?” You shifted slightly. “He said he needed some space. Just for a while.” Lo’ak stilled. You didn’t see his jaw tighten, but Kiri did. Jake looked up. “He told you that directly?”

You nodded. “This morning.” There was a beat of silence. You were still trying to gauge the reactions when Neytiri stood slowly, brushing off her hands. “He asked for space,” she repeated, voice carefully neutral. “From what, exactly?” You blinked. “From everything, I guess. The memories. The pressure. Me.” You looked down at Kiriya. “He’s not running. He just… needs air.”

“Air?” Neytiri said sharply. “He has all the air in the world here.” Jake put a calming hand on her leg, gently. “Ma’Tiri.” Lo’ak straightened up suddenly. “It’s not just about the memories.” Everyone looked at him. Kiri’s eyes narrowed. “Lo’ak.” But he ignored her. “He’s confused, yeah. But it’s not just about that.” “Lo’ak…” Neytiri warned under her breath. He backed off instantly. “I just mean—it’s complicated for him. You can’t judge him for needing time.” You watched him, head tilting. “You okay?” He nodded too quickly. “Yeah. Just tired.”

You didn’t press it. The odd quiet that followed said more than any of them did. You felt it but couldn’t place it — the edge in Neytiri’s tone, the way Lo’ak wouldn’t quite look at you, the heaviness in Jake’s silence. Kiri shifted closer to you, her presence warm, protective. “You’re all acting weird,” you murmured, trying to joke. “I’m the one who got asked for space. I should be the one brooding.”

“You’re handling it with grace,” Jake said finally, offering a quiet smile. “We’re proud of you for that.” You met his eyes, then Neytiri’s. Hers were guarded. Too guarded. Something was off. Still, you smile and looked down at your sleeping daughter. “He just needs time. That’s all.” No one argued with you. But no one agreed either. And as the fire crackled quietly, your heart ached with the weight of all the things left unsaid — because you were still standing in the light, and everyone else… already knew something you didn’t.

Three months later, your mornings had changed. No longer did they begin with tear-streaked cheeks or aching silence. They started now with purpose. With Eylan giggling as he tried to braid his own hair, with Likan waddling into your arms, babbling half-formed words, and with Kiriya’s soft, sleepy coos as she nursed while wrapped against your chest. You rose before the sun most days, not out of sorrow, but to reclaim yourself piece by piece.

You had begun to hunt again. The first time you picked up your bow, it felt foreign in your hands, the weight unfamiliar after moons of barely using it. But the moment your feet touched the forest floor—alone, quiet—you remembered. The strength in your arms, the rhythm of your breath, the way the jungle had always spoken to you. You didn’t go far the first time, but it was enough. Enough to remember who you were. Not just his mate. Not just a mother. But a warrior. A woman. A force.

Over time, you started to laugh again. It came slowly at first—soft smiles, half-hearted chuckles. But then, one afternoon, you met up with two old friends from your youth, both mothers now, and one cracked a joke about her toddler eating a bug. You laughed so hard you cried. You realized you missed yourself. And more importantly… you missed joy. Joy you haven’t felt since neteyam had his memories. You helped mend nets, wove baskets, joined other mothers in gathering sea fruits, and swam farther than you had since giving birth to Kiriya. You didn’t do it for Neteyam. You did it for your sons, for your daughter… and for you.

Jake and Neytiri loved you like their own. They helped when they could—watching the kids when you needed to gather, bringing fresh meat after long hunts, or simply sitting with you at night when you couldn’t sleep. They noticed your growing strength, the fire returning to your eyes, and they were proud—even if it broke their hearts that it had to be this way.

They said nothing of Lina. They didn’t have to. The pain in Neytiri’s eyes whenever she looked at her son, the way Jake sighed deeply whenever the topic of space came up—it was all there. They knew. And they hated it. But they also understood that Neteyam was lost in his own way, and anger wouldn’t guide him home. Patience might.

Lo’ak was the one who struggled the most. He couldn’t understand why his brother—who had once looked at you like you were the stars—couldn’t see you now. Lo’ak tried to hold his tongue, but it gnawed at him. Tsireya was the one who calmed him, reminding him that love can’t be forced, and healing isn’t always linear. Even Tuk knew. She had cried one night in your arms, confused and worried, asking if Neteyam would ever come back to being him. You didn’t have an answer.

The children were adjusting, each in their own way. Eylan, ever the oldest, had grown more protective, more aware growing into a man who mimicked his father without even knowing. He watched your face carefully when you thought he wasn’t looking, quietly stepping in to help with Likan or Kiriya when he sensed you needed a moment. Likan, wild-hearted and two, was all tangled curls and endless energy, bouncing between tantrums and giggles as he tried to mimic his big brother’s every move.

And Kiriya, just three months old, was beginning to show more of herself: tiny hands always reaching, eyes wide and curious, gurgling happily whenever you or her brothers came near. She loved being held against your chest, calmed instantly by your heartbeat. Together, the three of them were loud and loving and beautifully chaotic. They didn’t understand everything, but they were still happy. Still whole, because they had you.

Each night, after the children were asleep and the fire was low, you knelt and prayed to Eywa. For strength. For patience. For your mate to find his way back—not just to you, but to himself. You no longer waited by the door, hoping he would come. But you didn’t close it either. You lived. You thrived. You healed. Quietly, painfully, and steadily. And though you didn’t know it… Your light was still reaching him. Even from afar. Even in the arms of another. Something in him still remembered. And Eywa… was still listening.

Meanwhile with Neteyam, he spent his months with Lina, she always waited for him at night. Not coy. Not nervous. Prepared. Her hair was down, lips glossed with fruit oil, and her wrap — if you could call it that — barely covered anything. A soft green length of fabric tied at her hip with a loose knot that looked like a gentle breeze might undo it. Neteyam didn’t miss that. And she knew.

“Long day?” she whispered one night, slipping behind him, arms curling around his waist, mouth pressing to the back of his neck. She was tall, taller than you, where you stood at Neteyam’s chest, she stood just below his jaw. “You can relax now, you’re with me.” Her hands slid across his stomach, dipping low. He exhaled, chest tight. Sometimes, he didn’t stop her.

Her fingers found him hard, aching — always from her touch, her scent, the way she pressed into his back like she belonged there. She’d stroke him slowly, lips dragging along his jaw. Sometimes she’d murmur praise. Other times, she’d drop to her knees, hands sliding up his thighs — but every time her lips brushed against him, the sound of footsteps, a call in the distance, a flicker of light— He’d freeze. “Wait—” he’d say, hands gripping her shoulders. “Not now.” She always looked up, mouth flushed, eyes wide. “You’re always say that.”

“I know,” he breathed. “I know.” But he wouldn’t let her finish, wouldn’t let her cross that line. Even the night she climbed into his lap, completely bare under her shawl — guiding his hands to her breasts, her thighs parted over his hips, rocking gently until he gasped against her mouth — he stopped it. Her fingers had worked his tewng loose. Her tongue was in his mouth, his hands full of her heat and softness, his head spinning— Then a branch snapped outside. A child’s laugh. A shadow. He gripped her hips, breathless. “No. We shouldn’t.” She groaned in frustration, but softened, kissing him again. “You keep saying that.”

“I’m trying to do the right thing.”

“But you want me,” she whispered, grinding down again, making him stutter. “Don’t lie.” He didn’t. He never did. Because yes, he wanted her. She was beautiful. Willing. Soft and warm and slick against him. But every time they got close — too close — something pulled him back. Something inside or outside stopped him. And when he left her mauri, half-dressed and still aching, he’d collapse onto his sleeping mat and try to breathe.

That’s when the dreams began, not nightmares — memories. You. Laughing beneath him in the forest, hair tangled, your moans stifled by his kiss. And just felt it, he loved kissing you in those dreams, loved dipping his head and pressing up on your skin. You on your back, guiding him in with a sigh like you’d done so many times he just couldn’t remember them all yet. You crying with joy, his son in your arms. You pulling his hands to your growing belly. And the way you looked at him like he was your whole world. He started to wake up with a tightness in his chest. Not just lust. But longing. He’d press his palm over his heart like it could stop the ache. The confusion, the guilt. Because Lina felt good. Safe in a way. Familiar now. But when he touched her, it was never like that. The feeling of worship. Of oneness. That only lived in the dreams. And those dreams were growing stronger, more vivid, more real. Which meant, little by little… Lina was losing him.

he didn’t know when exactly the dreams had started exactly. Maybe it was after the night you looked at him with flushed cheeks, when the sunlight kissed your skin and your laughter echoed through that small space between you, when his fingers brushed yours and something deep in him shifted. Or maybe it was earlier—when Likan grabbed his tail one day on the beach toddling between his legs like he was so used to doing it. Maybe after he once again, stopped Lina from getting her desperate fuck. He wasn’t sure.

But now, they came more and more often. Vivid. Unshakable. Sometimes warm and quiet, like drifting through memories too soft to be real. Other times sharp, intense—desire threading through his body until he woke in the dark, chest heaving, skin damp with sweat, painfully aware of the ache low in his belly.

At first, he thought they were just dreams. Imaginings. Wishes. But they kept happening—so detailed, so real, down to the sounds of your voice, the way you smelled, the exact curl of Likan’s fingers around his thumb. Eylan laughing, splashing in the river as you reached for him. You smiling up at Neteyam in the forest, eyes glowing with pride and love. The feeling of carrying you into your new mauri when you first arrived at Awa’atlu, both of you still dripping from the sea. The first night Likan was born, when you placed the baby in his arms and cried into his chest, or when you both introduced Eylan to his new baby brother.

He started writing them down, carving the details into the bark of a sea tree near the cliffs where no one would look. Just in case. He needed to be sure. Needed proof. He wanted to bring them to you someday, look you in the eye and ask, Was this real? Did I carry you across the ocean? Did we love like this, this deeply, this hard?

And then there were the other dreams. The ones he didn’t know what to do with. Your hands on his chest, your mouth on his skin. The soft groan he made when your hips rolled against his. The sound of your laughter tangled in heavy breathing, the press of his hand between your thighs as your voice broke on his name. Your body beneath him, around him. Sometimes playful. Sometimes desperate. Always you.

He would wake up with his heart racing, painfully hard, breath caught in his throat. It was impossible not to imagine what it had felt like in reality—your warmth, the way you moaned when he whispered in your ear, how you gripped him when he pressed deep inside. Sometimes it left him quiet for hours. Other times, he found himself flushed, frustrated, pacing near the water’s edge, unsure if it was guilt or longing.

He never told Lina. How could he? Those dreams never had her in them. Only you. He still didn’t remember everything. He was still confused, overwhelmed, pulled in two directions. But each night when he curled beneath the woven mat in his quiet mauri, Eywa whispered a little more of his past back to him. Gently. Deliberately. Sometimes cruel in its intensity, sometimes kind in its simplicity.

The cove was half-shadowed, kissed in dusk light and the faint shimmer of tide pools. The waves lapped gently, rhythmic, soft like the hush of a whisper. Neteyam sat alone on a rock worn smooth by the sea, one leg bent, the other dangling just above the sand. His jaw was tight. His eyes distant, mind loud Lina found him there again, just as she always did, silent steps through the shallows, stopping just behind him. “You always come here when your head’s too loud,” she said softly, voice just above the waves. “I like that.”

He didn’t turn, but his shoulders didn’t tense. He was used to her now, her voice, her scent, her closeness. “I’ve been dreaming again,” he murmured, fingers drumming against his thigh. She took the invitation. Sat behind him on the rock, then leaned forward, pressing her chest to his back gently, her arms wrapping around his middle without hesitation. Her hands settled flat against his stomach. “About her?” He nodded slowly.

“I see her sometimes. The boys. The baby… Kiriya.” He said the name carefully, like it might shatter in his mouth. “It’s not just flashes anymore. I can feel the emotion of the moment. Like I was really there.” Lina rested her chin against his shoulder, her fingers tracing slow, calming shapes against his stomach. “Dreams can be like that,” she murmured. “Vivid. Powerful. Especially when you’re searching for something — for yourself. Maybe your mind is trying to fill in blanks with what your family told you.” He was quiet.

She turned her head slightly, brushing her lips just behind his ear, soft, innocent. “But here, now… none of it is confusion.” He inhaled — not sharply, but deep — and Lina felt the moment shift. She took it. She moved to sit beside him, hips pressed to his, then slowly reached for his hand and brought it to her thigh, guiding his fingers to rest there. “You weren’t dreaming when you kissed me,” she said, voice velvet smooth. “Or when we touched.” Her hand slid along his wrist, up his arm. “You weren’t someone else. You were you. And you were relaxed. Real. With me.” He looked at her now, eyes shadowed with conflict — torn. Lina’s smile was soft, never smug. She cupped his cheek with one hand, her thumb grazing his jaw.

“She may have been your past, Neteyam,” she whispered. “But I’m your present.” Then she leaned in and kissed him. It wasn’t shy not like the first few times. Her fingers slipped behind his neck, pulling him closer as she moved her body more fully into his lap. His hands hesitated — one landing on her hip, the other still limp at his side — but she coaxed him gently, slowly. Her touch was steady, persistent, like the tide eroding stone. “You don’t have to force yourself to remember someone you don’t feel for anymore,” she murmured against his lips. “What if she’s just part of the story others told you? What if you don’t fit there anymore?” Neteyam looked at her — really looked at her.

“I don’t know what fits,” he admitted, low and raw. “I just… I don’t know.” Lina kissed him again — slower this time, her fingers tangled in his hair. “Then stop trying to remember who you were,” she breathed. “Let yourself be who you are. Now.” And for a while, he let her hold him like that. Let her mouth guide his. Let her arms wrap around his neck and pull him close, as if she could remake him from memory’s ashes into something brand new. And for now — she had him. Right where she wanted him.

Lina’s fingertips danced along the cords of muscle at the back of Neteyam’s neck, so light it almost tickled. She leaned in again — not to kiss him this time, but to let her forehead rest against his. Their breathing synced in the quiet. “You’re always thinking too much,” she murmured, voice barely audible. “Even now.” His hands had stilled at her waist. She could feel the tension buzzing just under his skin. “I see it, you know,” she whispered. “The weight you carry. The questions. The guilt.” She traced down his arm slowly, then took his hand in hers, guiding it back up, placing it over her heart. “But here, with me… you don’t have to answer to anyone. You don’t have to know anything. You can just be.”

His jaw clenched, throat tight. His fingers flexed against her chest, and for a moment she thought he might pull away. But he didn’t. Lina smiled gently and leaned back just enough to look at him fully. “You told me about your dreams,” she said, brushing his hair from his face. “How they feel so real. So full. But those dreams… they’re just pieces. Fragments.” He blinked slowly, watching her lips more than her eyes.

“You said they feel like memories, but maybe they’re not. Maybe they’re just your mind trying to give shape to something you lost.” Her fingers slid up under the leather strap across his shoulder, curling against his collarbone. She leaned in again, this time pressing a kiss to his cheek, then the edge of his jaw. Neteyam exhaled hard through his nose, but his hands came down to her thighs, steadying her in place. Lina’s voice softened, velvet sweet. “But this?” She guided his hands again — down her back, over the curve of her hips — slowly rocking forward so he could feel the press of her body. “This is real. This moment. Me.”

Neteyam groaned under his breath, jaw tightening, eyes fluttering shut for a second before he opened them again. “It’s not that simple,” he said, voice rough. “Why not?” She nuzzled against his neck. “Because I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

“You’re not,” she whispered. “You’re waking up in a life you don’t remember. A mate you don’t recognize. Children who look at you like you’re someone you’re not. That’s not your fault.” She felt him tense under her, so she kissed the side of his neck, slow and soft. “You didn’t choose this, Neteyam.”

“I didn’t choose you either,” he said quietly. That made her pause. Not because it hurt — but because it told her she needed to move more carefully. So she gave a soft laugh — not mocking, but light, breezy. “No,” she agreed. “But sometimes Eywa puts the right person in your path at the right time. Someone who sees you. Who gives you space to breathe.” Her hands cupped his face gently now. “I’m not asking you to choose me. I’m just here. With you. Right now.”

His eyes flicked down — to her mouth, her neck, the way her chest rose and fell close to his. His hands were still on her thighs, but one began to trail upward slowly, as if he were testing what felt familiar. Or maybe… what felt good. Lina closed the distance again, this time kissing him with more intent — a slow burn, coaxing his mouth open with hers, one hand sliding down his chest and resting low on his stomach. She didn’t push further. Not yet. She just let the kiss carry the weight, the confusion, the need. And when he didn’t stop her, when he kissed her back and let his hands roam, when his grip tightened and his mouth opened wider — she knew. He was spiraling. Floating somewhere between desire and doubt. Between what used to be and what he didn’t remember. So she kissed him deeper, then slower. Then softer.

When they broke apart, breathless and flushed, she smiled and leaned her forehead against his again. Her fingers grazed his chest. “You don’t have to feel bad,” she murmured. “You’re allowed to want something that feels good. That feels real.” He didn’t answer. Just stared at the ground over her shoulder, jaw taut, hands still trembling on her body. “You’re not the same man you were before,” Lina whispered. “You don’t have to force yourself to go back to someone you don’t know. Maybe… Eywa gave you a second chance. A clean start.” Neteyam said nothing. But he didn’t pull away either.

And that was enough for her. Because as far as Lina was concerned — she already had her foot in the door. And every time he let her touch him, let her pull him in, let her speak softly into the cracks in his memory — He was already choosing her. Even if he didn’t know it yet.

His lips were still warm against hers. Lina didn’t move at first — didn’t dare. Her fingers lingered on his chest where she’d pulled him to her, heart thudding like a war drum in her ears. She kept her eyes on his mouth; breath caught in her throat like she’d swallowed fire. That kiss was real. That was progress. Slowly, she let out a trembling breath and smiled up at him, soft and sweet, playing the part, she’d carved out so perfectly.

“You always taste like the sea,” she whispered, voice low. “Even after all this time.” Her thumb dragged gently along his jawline, a featherlight touch meant to make him stay. To keep him close. Hers. Neteyam’s eyes flickered—uncertainty warring with something else. Want. Or confusion. Maybe both, she didn’t care which. Because he hadn’t stopped her. That was enough.

She shifted closer, knees pressing against his hips. Her fingers slipped from his jaw to the cords of muscle along his throat, brushing softly, tracing. “You don’t have to say anything,” she murmured. “I know what it feels like to be lost. You don’t owe anyone your peace.” He swallowed but didn’t answer. Just watched her. Watched the way her hands moved. The way her voice soothed. The way she filled the silence. Lina leaned in, nose brushing his. “Let me be that peace,” she whispered.

She had worked too hard for this, too long. From the moment she saw him step out off his ikran, a baby in his arms and war in his shoulders, she knew. She felt it. The weight of who he was — who he used to be. And she envied it. All of it. The love. The family. The way his mate clung to him like gravity. He never noticed her back then. Not really. But she noticed everything. She started helping with hunts she didn’t care about. Took training sessions near the Sullys. She gave him fruit, offered quiet jokes, asked him questions no one else did — just to hear him speak.

But his eyes always found their way back to her. The mate. The mother. So she stepped back. Smiled politely. Waited. Until the sky burned and blood soaked the sand, and suddenly, Eywa delivered him straight to her — broken, blank, and so beautifully lost. She had thanked the Great Mother that night. And every night since. Lina’s hand slid beneath the braid resting on his collarbone, fingertips brushing the skin just under the hollow of his throat. “I don’t ask you to be anything,” she said softly, lips brushing his cheek. “I don’t ask you to remember. I only ask you to feel what’s right in front of you.”

Her hand guided his again, this time to her hip, letting it rest there, just above the bone. His fingers twitched against her skin, but he didn’t pull away. She smiled. “You’re always tense around them,” she murmured. “Like you’re failing some invisible test. But with me… I see you breathe again.” She leaned in, barely touching her lips to his ear. “You feel like you when you’re with me.” And he did. She made sure of that. She never questioned him. Never pushed. She laughed at everything he said. She let him lead even when he didn’t know where he was going. She was patient. Attentive. Always near but never too much. She never even brought up the mate. Or the children. Not unless he did. And even then, only with a quiet smile and understanding eyes. The kind that said it’s okay that you don’t love them. You don’t have to.

Because eventually… He wouldn’t go back. Eventually, he would stop dreaming of a woman he didn’t recognize and realize how easy it was to just let her go. Eventually, he would choose the calm over the storm. And she would be there. Waiting, still smiling, still soft and still his.

Neteyam began spending more time outside during the day, often seated in the sun with Kiri or helping Jake mend a fishing net, eyes following the sway of the sea in silence. He spoke more now — slowly, cautiously — as if testing the weight of his voice in old rhythms. The boys would come up to him sometimes. Eylan offering him small gifts, Likan tugging at his tail to get attention. He didn’t always know how to respond, but he didn’t back away.

That morning, you caught him holding Kiriya again — this time with her tiny fingers wrapped tightly around his braid as she gurgled happily in his arms. He didn’t realize you were watching. But he smiled. The dreams were changing him. He’d begun writing them down — scratching notes into thin leaf parchment when he woke, tracing the edges of memory with almost frantic curiosity. He saw your face in all of them. Your laughter. Your tears. The sound of your voice calling him “tìyawn.”

And lately, he’d been seeing Lo’ak too, laughing with him, hunting beside him, helping deliver Eylan, pulling him from danger. The images weren’t clear, but the feeling was. Love. Loyalty. Trust. He needed to talk to someone. So that night, he found Lo’ak sitting on the rocks near the shore, watching the tide pull against the reef. “You got a minute?” Neteyam asked, voice rough from use. Lo’ak glanced over. “Yeah, Whatsup bro?” They sat together in the moonlight, the ocean lapping at their feet. For a long time, Neteyam said nothing. Then, “I keep dreaming of you.” Lo’ak blinked. “Uh… thanks?”

“No,” Neteyam huffed a laugh. “Not like that, skxawng. I mean… we were close. Weren’t we?” Lo’ak’s smile faded into something soft. “Yeah. You are my brother. My best friend.” There was silence between them again, warm and heavy. Neteyam nodded slowly. “I feel it. Even if I don’t remember it all yet. I feel like I trusted you more than anyone.”

“Besides your wife, you did,” Lo’ak said. “You still can.” Neteyam rubbed a hand over his face. “Everything’s so loud lately. The dreams won’t stop. And every time I look at her—” His voice faltered, but Lo’ak knew who he meant. “It’s like… my body remembers even if my head can’t.” Lo’ak swallowed, choosing his next words carefully. “You don’t have to force anything. But if you feel it… follow that.” Neteyam looked at him, searching. “You think I’m a terrible person?”

“No,” Lo’ak said without hesitation. “I think you’re lost. But you’re finding your way back.” Neteyam exhaled, the corners of his mouth twitching up. “I missed you.” Lo’ak grinned. “I missed you more.”

But further back, hidden in the shadow of the reef wall, Lina stood — her back pressed against the stone, breath caught in her throat. She hadn’t meant to follow him, not at first. But when she saw him walking toward Lo’ak, toward his family, something gnawed inside her. And when she heard what he said — that he dreamed of them, felt something for them, missed them and that gnawing turned to fear. No. No! She had worked too hard to lose him now.

She had touched him, claimed pieces of him, given him herself in every way he would allow — all to be the one he reached for in the darkness. She couldn’t compete with dreams. Not if he started believing they were real. And so, as the brothers laughed quietly under the stars, Lina stepped back into the shadows — her smile gone, her hands curling into fists. If he was starting to remember who he was… Then she had to remind him who he could be. With her.

The lanternlight inside Lina’s mauri flickered low, casting her face in a warm, amber glow. Outside, the reef was quiet, only the occasional lap of water against stone and the breeze threading through the woven walls. Neteyam stood near the entrance, silent for a long while. He shouldn’t have come. He knew that. But her voice had pulled him in again, soft and aching when she’d said, “Can we talk?”

Now he stood in the hush of her space, tense and unsure. She hadn’t touched him yet — not like she usually did. She just sat there, on the mat, her knees drawn to her chest, her head resting lightly against them. “You didn’t come yesterday,” she said quietly. His brow twitched. “I had a lot on my mind.”

“I noticed,” she said, her voice tight. “You’ve been… different.” He didn’t answer. She glanced up at him — eyes glistening. “I keep thinking I did something wrong.” Neteyam exhaled. “You didn’t.”

“Then why don’t you want me anymore?” He flinched. Lina dropped her gaze, fingers curling against her legs. “You come here, but you don’t touch me like before. You don’t even look at me the same way.”

“I never meant to hurt you,” he murmured. “I’m just—” she whispered cutting him off. “I know. Confused” A shaky breath escaped her lips. “But… you kissed me, Neteyam. You held me like I mattered. And I—I thought that meant something.”

“It did,” he said quietly. “Then why do I feel like I’m losing you?” He stepped forward, uneasy. “You’re not.” But she shook her head, blinking fast. “You are slipping away, and I can feel it.” A tear slid down her cheek, and she looked at him with trembling lips. “What did I do wrong? Why can’t I be enough?” Neteyam’s chest ached. He didn’t have an answer. His mind was too full — dreams, flashes of laughter, touches he couldn’t place, names that held weight even without memory. Lina leaned forward slowly, crawling toward him on her knees, eyes wide, wet. “Do you still want me?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “Or was I just… something to hold while you were lost?”

“Lina—”

“Because I was there,” she said. “I didn’t ask for anything. I didn’t push. I just stayed. I listened. I held you. And now…” She reached for his hand. “You won’t even look at me.”

He looked down at her hand in his — warm, trembling. Her fingers threaded with his, then slowly, she guided his palm up to her shoulder, pressing his hand there like she was pleading with her skin. “Touch me like you did before,” she whispered. “Like I matter to you. Even if it’s just for tonight.” His fingers twitched.

She moved closer, lifting his hand to her collarbone now, guiding his touch as if it were his idea. Her breath hitched when his thumb brushed her neck. “There,” she said. “Do you feel that?” He swallowed. “That’s me,” she murmured. “Still here. Still wanting you.” Her hands slid to his waist, her head tilted, eyes searching his face. “Let me have this. Let me keep something before it all disappears.” His heart pounded. She rose slightly onto her knees, her chest pressed to his, her breath warm on his lips. Her hands curled around his shoulders, pulling him gently, softly, until his forehead was resting against hers.

“I need you,” she whispered. “I need us.” His eyes closed for a moment, the weight of her words curling around him like vines. Guilt. Sadness. Confusion. His body responded — it always did — but his mind was a storm. And then, like always… a noise outside. Children giggling, passing by. A familiar laugh in the distance — his brother’s. Neteyam tensed. He stepped back slowly, his breathing unsteady. Her hands slipped from his skin, her face falling. “Why?” she asked, voice breaking. “Why do you always pull away?”

He didn’t answer. He just looked at her, gaze heavy with something she couldn’t quite decipher — sorrow, maybe. Or guilt. Or both. Then he turned and left. And she stayed there, staring at the doorway like it betrayed her. But in her chest, something twisted. If soft didn’t work… maybe it was time for something harder. Because she was not going to lose him. Not after everything.

The stars blinked above him as Neteyam walked the short distance from Lina’s mauri to the Sully’s. His hands were still warm from her touch, but his heart felt heavier than it had when he walked in. He hadn’t said anything on the way out. He never really did. The flicker of torchlight reached him first — then the sound of laughter, children’s voices, and the smell of grilled fish and roasted sea roots drifting through the humid evening air, home. He stopped at the edge of the mauri, just out of sight, watching.

Jake sat cross-legged with Tuk and Eylan, cutting bits of fish for both of them while they chattered excitedly. Neytiri was nearby, laughing softly at something Lo’ak had said while Kiri fed Likan, who squirmed and babbled with his usual endless energy. You sat to the side with baby Kiriya in your lap, bouncing her gently while you tried to eat with your free hand, the sling now loosened. Her little head bobbed as she cooed and reached for a piece of your braid.

The space was warm and full, lively and familiar. It felt like something he didn’t realize he’d been missing. Then Tuk spotted him. “Neteyam!” she chirped, waving hard with both arms like her life depended on it. Everyone turned. And you—your head snapped up, eyes meeting his with that small, soft smile that hadn’t changed, even through all of it. He stepped in slowly. Lo’ak shifted over without a word, patting the space between him and Eylan. “You’re late,” Jake teased. “I didn’t know I was invited,” Neteyam replied lightly, settling down between his brother and son. “You always are,” Neytiri said, smiling warmly at him.

Eylan wasted no time crawling into his lap, talking a mile a minute about the reef games he played with his friends and how he won twice but only because one of the boys cheated once and tried to pull his tail underwater. Neteyam listened. Really listened. His arm curled around the boy instinctively, his smile more genuine than it had been all day. Kiriya squealed from your lap; eyes locked on her big brother now curled in her father’s arms. Her little hands wiggled excitedly in the air. “She’s been very chatty today,” you said softly, brushing a hand over her head.

“Like you?” he replied before he could think twice. Your eyes flicked to his and your open your mouth in offense playfully, the words surprised even him. “Was that an insult? You saying I talk to much?” You laugh and so did he, a real chuckle. Then Lo’ak leaned in, smirking. “We were just talking about the clan gathering.”

“The big one?” Neteyam asked, eyes going to Jake. Jake nodded. “Few weeks. All the coastal villages are coming in for it. Singing, dancing, food — even a few races and competitions.” You grinned. “Eylan is already planning what he’s going to wear. And I’m thinking we’ll leave Kiriya and Likan with a sitter so we can all actually enjoy it.” Neteyam blinked. “A sitter?” You nodded and told him about a friend of Ronal’s who volunteered to watch them. “She agreed to watch them,” you said. “So the family can go.”

“She’s kind,” Neytiri added, “and Likan already loves her.” Neteyam looked toward Likan, who was now face-first in Kiri’s lap, pretending to be a sea creature while she dramatically scolded him for drooling on her skirt. Everyone laughed. Neteyam looked down at Eylan still cuddled into his chest. The world felt right for a moment. Lighter.

“I remember this,” he murmured softly. “This feeling,” he said more clearly. “This noise. The way everyone talks over each other. It’s warm. I remember that.” Lo’ak smiled at him, wide and proud. “You always said it drove you crazy.”

“But I liked it,” Neteyam replied. Eylan looked up. “You remember us, sempu?” Neteyam hesitated. He didn’t want to lie. “Not fully. But I dream about you. A lot.” Eylan’s eyes lit up. “What do I do in your dreams?”

“You cry a lot,” Neteyam teased, nudging him with a grin. Eylan gasped. “I do not!” Everyone burst out laughing. Likan shouted something unintelligible and flailed in agreement, as if he understood everything and Kiriya squealed again, bouncing in your lap. For the first time in weeks, Neteyam laughed — fully. Loud and real. He leaned into his brother, who bumped shoulders with him. You looked down at your baby, then at your boys, your mate sitting there like he always belonged, and you smiled.

Dinner had ended with the warm hum of laughter still lingering in the air, the scent of smoked fish and sea root still clinging to everyone’s fingers and hair. You’d barely noticed how late it had gotten until Tuk yawned with a dramatic stretch, and Eylan slumped more into Neteyam’s side, rubbing his eyes and murmuring sleepily. Likan was already asleep in Kiri’s lap, his little hand still clutching a half-eaten piece of roasted yovo fruit. Kiriya lay against your chest, blinking slowly from the sling, her fists curling into your wrap like she didn’t want the night to end. You rose slowly, brushing the side of her cheek. “Alright, bedtime,” you murmured. Neteyam was already shifting, carefully gathering Eylan into his arms. The boy sighed, nestling in with a contented little hum.

“I can get Likan,” he said, glancing toward Kiri. She smiled softly and handed over the sleeping toddler. “He’s heavier when he’s asleep. Good luck.” Neteyam gave a little huff under his breath and took him carefully, one arm under Likan’s bottom, the other supporting his back. “When did they get so big?” he muttered. “You’ve been gone a while,” Kiri said gently, then turned to help Neytiri tidy the dinner space.

With the baby against your chest and the boys in his arms, the two of you left the Sully mauri and padded softly across the sand toward your own. The stars blinked above, and the soft crash of waves against the reef formed a lullaby in the dark. Your home was quiet, warm. The fire pit glowed low with embers, just enough light to see by. Neteyam crouched and carefully lowered Likan onto the sleeping mat, then Eylan, who stirred immediately with a dramatic groan.

“I don’t wanna sleep,” Eylan mumbled. “You’re already sleeping, itan,” Neteyam said dryly, nudging him. “Am not,” came the sulky reply. “I’ll settle Kiriya,” you murmured, already tugging at the ties of her sling, her soft breath hot against your skin. “If you settle the boys—?”

“Done,” Neteyam said. It was not done. Eylan rolled onto his side, bumped into Likan, and immediately yelped, “He’s kicking me!” Likan sat up with a startled cry, wide-eyed and completely disoriented. “No kicking! No!” You sighed. “Great. Now they’re both up.” Neteyam rubbed his face. “I jinxed it.”

“Clearly.” The next half hour was a blur of soothing and shifting. Eylan wanted a different pillow — “not that one, the soft one!” and Likan kept scooting off the mat to look for a rock he swore he lost during dinner. You nursed Kiriya while walking gently in a slow loop, whispering soft lullabies, but she squirmed and whimpered, unsettled. “I think she’s overtired,” you murmured. “She gets that from you,” Neteyam called quietly from the mat. You shot him a look and he grinned.

Eventually, Eylan conked out again, curled around one of the large shell-shaped pillows. Likan was sprawled across Neteyam’s chest, one tiny hand curled against his father’s collarbone, breathing slow and deep. And Kiriya… well, she was still fussing. You sat on the edge of the mat, nursing her again, hoping this time it would soothe her to sleep. Neteyam turned his head where he lay on his back, looking at you through half-lidded eyes. “You make that look so easy,” he said softly. You huffed a tired laugh. “I don’t think my back would agree.”

“She looks so much like you when she’s angry,” he whispered. “She looks like you,” you corrected, brushing a finger down her nose. Neteyam’s voice dropped lower, warmer. “You’re really beautiful when you do that, you know.” Your eyes flicked to his. “Feeding her,” he added. “You look strong. Like a mother. Like a wife.” You felt your cheeks flush, heat crawling up your neck. “I’ve been doing it for months.”

“I know.” His gaze lingered on your chest for a moment longer before flicking back up to your eyes. “Still.” You cleared your throat. “You should get up. You’ll fall asleep like that.” He smiled rubbing a hand on Likan’s back “I might.”

“You haven’t slept here in months.” He looked down at the cozy chaos beneath him — soft woven blankets, the seashell pillows, Likan drooling slightly on his chest. “It’s nice,” he said quietly. “You made this warm. Safe.” You smiled, brushing Kiriya’s cheek. “That’s what a home is supposed to be.” He didn’t answer, but he didn’t move either. His hand rested lightly on Likan’s back, rising and falling with the toddler’s breath. “You’re good at this,” you said softly, surprising yourself. “At what?”

“Being a father. Even if you don’t remember how you got here… you belong here.” He turned his face toward you again. “You really think so?” You nod, “I do.” The fire popped gently. You switched Kiriya to the other side, and Neteyam’s eyes flicked toward your chest again before quickly looking away. “You know,” he said after a pause, “some of those pictures we saw… you looked downright dangerous.” You laughed under your breath. “Dangerous? You were looking at pictures again?”

“In a good way. Like… you knew exactly what you were doing.”

“I did,” you teased. “You liked that.”

“I do like that.” You glanced over. “Don’t flirt with me while I’m breastfeeding.”

“Why not?” he said, voice a little lower. “You’re still hot.” You laughed again, quieter this time, trying not to jostle the baby. “I can’t tell if you’re joking.”

“Neither can I.” There was a pause. Then, softer: “But I think I mean it.” And when Kiriya finally drifted off against your chest, her little lips still puckered, Neteyam reached out and adjusted the blanket around your shoulder, fingers brushing the skin just beneath your collarbone. “Thank you for this,” he whispered. You met his eyes, voice almost too soft to hear. “You’re welcome home.” The mauri was quiet, soft with the hush of the ocean beyond its walls and the occasional murmur of sleeping children shifting in their dreams. But Neteyam lay wide awake, still and silent, his arms at his sides, his head turned slightly toward you.

You were close, closer than you had been in months. Eylan lay between you both, curled into his father’s side, one hand resting over Neteyam’s chest. Likan sprawled in his usual starfish pattern across the bottom of the mat, and Kiriya had been swaddled and tucked close to your chest earlier. But now, it was the middle of the night. The stars outside had shifted overhead. And Kiriya stirred, giving a soft, sleepy whimper. You woke immediately — that mother’s instinct still razor sharp. You sat up slowly, rubbing your eyes, careful not to jostle Eylan. Kiriya let out a soft protest again, louder this time, and you pulled her into your arms, guiding her to nurse as naturally as you breathed. Neteyam didn’t move. But he wasn’t asleep. His voice came softly, almost hesitantly, like he was testing the darkness.

“If someone… forgot their whole life,” he said, “and started over… are they still responsible for what they do when they don’t remember who they were?” You blinked at the question, caught off guard. “You’re awake?” Kiriya suckled quietly, your hand stroking her soft downy hair. “That’s a strange thing to ask,” you said gently. “I know.” You could hear the tension in his voice — low and conflicted, almost uncertain. “Why are you asking?”

“It’s just…” he paused. “What if… they did something they wouldn’t have done before? Something that… wasn’t fair to the people who love them?” Your heart tightened. Your fingers stilled where they stroked the baby’s back. The air felt thicker now. In the dark, you couldn’t see him. But you knew. You knew what this was. “Neteyam,” you said quietly, “did you do something?” He didn’t answer right away. You reached out, careful not to wake Eylan, and your fingers brushed across your son’s curls before finding the edge of Neteyam’s arm — warm, steady, trembling slightly. “I didn’t know who I was,” he said finally, barely a whisper. “But that doesn’t mean I didn’t… feel. I still felt things. Wanting to be wanted. To feel like I mattered to someone.”

“And now?” He exhaled shakily. “Now I remember more every day. And I feel like I’m… two different people trying to live in one skin. The man who forgot, and the man who’s starting to come back.” Your hand stayed there, on his arm, fingers tightening just slightly. “And both of them are hurting.” He swallowed. You heard it. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” You whisper, “I know.”

“I think I already did,” he whispered. You were silent for a long moment, and Kiriya stirred again in your arms, unlatching briefly before shifting and settling once more. You brushed her cheek and whispered, “She’s hungry again. She does that. Doesn’t like to be alone.”

“I think I understand that.” You looked at where you knew he lay. “I don’t need a perfect version of you, Neteyam. Just the one who tries.” He was quiet, but your fingers still felt his — brushing lightly over your knuckles now, just barely. “I don’t want to be lost anymore,” he said. You nodded. “Then come back. Piece by piece. I’ll wait.” And there was something in his next breath — a sound halfway between a sigh and a sob, so soft it barely made it to you. You didn’t say more.

You stayed there, in the dark, with the baby nestled against you, your fingers resting against the edge of his hand across Eylan’s little head. And somehow, even with all that had happened — the heartbreak, the confusion, the silence — it felt like you were finding your way again. In the dark, but still together.

The rain had slowed outside, just a gentle patter on the leaves now, but inside the mauri, it was still warm with your shared breath and the soft sounds of your sleeping children. Neteyam hadn’t moved since your conversation started. Likan was curled up on his chest, Eylan pressed into his side, and Kiriya was snoozing in your arms. You let a beat pass. Then you whispered, not quite able to let it go, “Is that all you did with her?” He blinked slowly. “…You mean—”

“Yes, Neteyam,” you cut in, voice hushed but clearly not done. “Because I’ve been sitting here, holding our daughter, who literally looks like a smaller, grumpier version of you, and wondering how far another woman got with my mate while I was leaking milk and chasing toddlers.” Neteyam groaned softly, covering his face with his free hand. “You really want to do this now?”

“Yes.” He peeked out between his fingers at you. “…You’re serious?” You narrowed your eyes. “Dead serious.” He sighed, careful not to jostle Likan. “She… tried things.” You raised a brow. “She kissed me. Obviously.”

“Obviously,” you muttered, nose wrinkling. “And, uh… she touched me.” His ears twitched slightly in embarrassment. You waited, blinking slowly. “Touched you how, exactly?” He gave you a long look. You didn’t blink. Neteyam cleared his throat. “With her hand.” You blinked again. “And?” you pressed, biting back a smirk. He gave a half-hearted shrug, lips twitching. “She tried to go down on me. Like… a few times.” You gave him a scandalized look, eyes adjusting to the dark. “She was very—forward,” he muttered quickly. “I never let her. But her hand… got there a couple times.”

You just stared at him and then shook your head. “Couple times, he says. Neteyam, a couple is two.” He looked at the ceiling like it held answers. “It was more than two.” You let out a soft snort. “I should throw this baby blanket at you.” He gave you a sheepish grin. “Please don’t. Likan might wake up. And I’m currently pinned under his drool.” You stared at him, lips twitching despite yourself. Then your voice turned teasing, but it held an edge. “So? Was she good at it?”

He choked. “What?” You tilted your head. “I’m asking. Was she good with her hands?” Neteyam looked like he wanted Eywa to strike him down where he lay. “I—I mean. It was… fine.”

“Fine?” He winced. “Okay, good. Whatever. It felt good. I’m not made of stone.” You leaned closer, voice lower. “Better than me?” He looked horrified. “Why would you ask me that?”

“Because I’m your wife,” you said, barely containing your laughter, “and if another woman had your favorite parts in her hands, I want to know if she did it right.” He groaned again. “It’s like you’re trying to kill me.” You shrugged, totally unfazed. “Was she better?”

“No,” he said without thinking. Then added, “Like—I mean I don’t fully remember everything with you, but I know how it felt with you. That connection. The trust. The way we… moved together. That’s not something you just replace.” You smiled a little, then asked slyly, “Did she smell good?” Neteyam paused. “What is this?”

“Answer the question.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “She smelled like seaweed and flower oil.” You wrinkled your nose. “I knew it. That woman bathes in crushed petals like she’s trying to lure in unsuspecting men.” Neteyam chuckled softly. “You were always so territorial.” You shrugged. “Yes, but I’m more protective. There’s a difference.”

“Uh-huh,” he said, lips twitching. “Was she softer than me?” His eyes slid over to you, finally catching on to the playful, wicked glint in your gaze. “You’re soft and strong. Best of both.”

“Was she prettier?”

“No.”

“Curvier?” Neteyam smiled. “No one fits against me like you do.” You paused, surprised by how much that made your heart skip. Then, in a quiet moment, you asked, “Did you want her?”

He went still. His gaze dropped to your daughter, curled on your chest. To your hand resting on the mat near his. And finally, to your face. “…No,” he said. “I was confused. Lost. And she was there. But I didn’t want her. Not like I want you.” The silence that followed was full of everything unspoken, all the weight of grief, memory, love, and longing. You exhaled. “Okay.”

“Okay?” he echoed softly. You nodded. “We’ll figure it out.” He looked at you a moment longer, then brushed a knuckle across Likan’s back. “You’re incredible, you know that?” You smirked. “Yeah, well. Your memory may be slow, but your taste is still perfect.” Neteyam laughed under his breath, and for the first time in ages, it felt like home.

The mornings felt different now. For the first time in what felt like seasons, Neteyam was back in the mauri where he belonged — where you and the children had waited for him without ever stopping. His things had been moved quietly during the early hours of his return, his arm brushing yours as he helped fold blankets, tuck them into corners, smooth over sleeping mats. The space had always been his, and yet now he treated it like a sacred gift he was trying to earn back every day.

He hadn’t gone to Lina since you told him not to — since he agreed not to. He hadn’t even looked in her direction when he passed the outer reefs. Every time guilt threatened to creep up his spine, he reminded himself that he was here because of you. Because you still loved him, still prayed for him, even when he’d forgotten everything.

He remembered more now — slowly, in pieces. The way you used to curl into his chest at night. The way Eylan would cling to his shoulders when he was younger, pressing his cheek into Neteyam’s neck. How Likan used to demand to ride on his shoulders, yelling “Up! Up!” with a chubby little hand tugging his braids. And how Kiriya’s lips curled the tiniest bit when she nursed, like she was smiling up at you in her own way.

He apologized over and over. Quietly, loudly, sometimes with tears in his eyes, sometimes with flowers braided into your hair when he thought words weren’t enough. He hadn’t slept with Lina — but it didn’t make what happened disappear. And he didn’t expect your forgiveness quickly. He just wanted the chance to prove he was worthy of it. You let him. Slowly. On your terms.

He swept the floors of the mauri. Took over the task of bathing the boys in the lagoon when they were fighting so you didn’t have to. Cooked badly — and burned things often — but he kept trying. Kiri joked once that he was trying to atone through labor, and Neteyam didn’t even deny it.

One afternoon, a few days into his return, Lo’ak came by to help him fix a crooked support beam that held up the side of the roof. The boys were napping after an afternoon of chasing each other in the sun, Kiriya nestled against your chest while you rested in the shade nearby. “Hold this steady,” Neteyam said, gripping the thick vine and pulling it taut while Lo’ak looped it around. Lo’ak grunted. “You got heavier since the war, bro. You’re not fun to lift anymore.”

“You got scrawnier,” Neteyam shot back, smirking. Lo’ak snorted. “You wish.” They worked in easy silence for a bit, sweat collecting at their temples, the weight of the sun warm but not oppressive. Then Neteyam asked casually — too casually — “So… you and my mate. You kissed her?” Lo’ak froze like someone had poured cold water down his spine. “What?” Neteyam didn’t look at him right away. He was focused on tying a knot. “She told me. Said it happened the night before I woke up.”

“You—she—oh my Eywa.” Lo’ak dropped the cord. “Bro, I didn’t mean to—she was crying, I was—Neteyam I wasn’t even trying to—I’m sorry.” Neteyam let the silence stretch. Then: “Was it… passionate?”

“Bro!” You, overhearing from the shade, couldn’t stop the snort that slipped from your nose. Lo’ak looked like he wanted to fling himself off the reef. “I mean I just—” Neteyam’s mouth twitched, trying to keep a straight face. “Should I be worried?”

Lo’ak waved his hands wildly. “There was no tongue, okay?! It was like—a sad, forehead-touchy kind of thing, and then we kissed but like—your wife kisses with emotion, okay?! I wasn’t trying to seduce her—” Neteyam was laughing now. Fully, openly. Lo’ak narrowed his eyes. “You’re the worst.”

“I’m serious,” Neteyam said between laughs. “Was it good?” Lo’ak turned to you. “Are you hearing this madness?” You were howling now, arms crossed as Kiriya snoozed peacefully, unfazed by her family’s antics. “I’m just saying,” Neteyam added, wiping his face, “if my brother kissed my wife, I at least want to know how I rank.” Lo’ak pointed at him. “You ranked. I promise. I almost got punched by guilt mid-kiss. It’s you, bro. It’s always been you.”

Neteyam’s expression softened at that. He nodded once, serious again. “I know. It’s okay. I just… I needed to hear it.” Lo’ak tilted his head. “Are we… cool?” Neteyam clapped a hand on his shoulder. “You raised my kids with her. Helped her when I was gone, kept them safe. I’m not just cool with you—I owe you.”

Lo’ak smiled. “Just don’t make me babysit all three at once again. I still have nightmares.” You grinned, watching the two brothers laugh again. The ache in your chest softened. This was what you’d missed. What had been missing. And slowly, piece by piece, the bonds were stitching back together.

The dreams were getting worse. Or… better, depending on perspective. But for Neteyam, waking up next to you every morning while you slept peacefully—with your curves tucked beneath soft cloth, your breath warm and even, and Kiriya cooing quietly against your chest—was becoming increasingly difficult. Not because he didn’t want to be there. But because he really wanted to be there.

The dreams started off soft, tender… sweet flashes of you and him tangled in the glowing forest under a curtain of bioluminescent vines, your skin glowing, your laugh echoing in his ears as you kissed his cheeks, his mouth, his neck. But then they escalated. Faster than he was prepared for.

Now they were… loud. In every sense. They were full-body, flushed-skin, back-arching, tweng-tangling flashes that left him panting awake in the dark, his hands fisted in the bedding, his chest heaving, and a very obvious situation in his lap that he had to hide quickly before Eylan or Likan stirred beside him. He thought cold water would help. He was wrong.

So, every morning, right as the first rays of dawn touched the edge of the reef, Neteyam would sneak off into the waves, slipping into the water with a hiss through his teeth, determined to let the icy ocean chase the heat from his blood. It never worked. And when he came back in, shivering, teeth chattering slightly, you always gave him the same look. This day was no different. You blinked awake slowly, brushing a hand over Kiriya’s soft little back where she lay snuggled against your chest, her lips still puckered from nursing. Then you caught sight of him, dripping wet, shoulders hunched slightly, arms wrapped around himself as he tried to warm up. You blinked again. Then smirked. “Another swim, mighty warrior?” He cleared his throat, doing his best to look casual. “Just clearing my head.”

“Sure.” You sat up slightly, brushing Kiriya’s curls from her cheek, her sleepy little eyes barely cracking open. “Did the ocean help, or just make your balls disappear?” Neteyam choked, whipping around. “Skxawng!” You were laughing before you could stop yourself, your shoulders shaking, one hand trying to cover your mouth. Neteyam was pink around the tips of his ears as he rubbed his arms. “It’s cold out there.”

“Well maybe,” you said, setting Kiriya gently down beside her brothers, who were still tangled in a sleepy pile, “you should try not torturing yourself.” He huffed. “It’s not like I can control what I dream about.” You gave him a knowing look as you moved to him, placing a thick, woven cloth over his shoulders. He flinched at the warmth, grateful. “But you can control what you do about it,” you teased. He looked at you warily. “What does that mean?”

“It means,” you said, beginning to rub warmth into his arms through the cloth, “I see you, Neteyam. You wake up every morning tense and hard like a stone pillar under that tweng. You’ve been diving into the water like some cursed, guilty little boy. But you’re not little. You’re a grown man. My mate.”

He looked anywhere but your eyes. You lowered your voice. “I know what your dreams are about.” He finally met your gaze, his voice low. “Do you?” You nodded slowly. “You talk in your sleep sometimes.” He groaned, pulling the cloth over his face. “Great.”

“Don’t be embarrassed,” you said, laughing softly. “They’re… kinda flattering.” He peeked at you with a look of dry betrayal. “You’re enjoying this?”

“Just a little.” He scowled, though it lacked heat. “It’s not fair. I remember just enough to want you, but not enough to feel like I deserve to act on it.” Your smile faded into something softer. You moved closer, fingertips brushing his arm. “You’re my husband. The father of my children. You don’t have to earn what’s already yours. You just have to come home to it.”

He looked at you for a long time, jaw tight, eyes searching your face. “I dream of you,” he said. “The way you used to kiss me. Touch me. Your voice—sounds—I didn’t know I remembered… They wake me up shaking.” Your lips parted slightly, your own breath catching. “And then I look at you,” he added, “and I just feel… pulled. Like my body remembers everything my head forgot. Every time I brush against you by accident, it feels like lightning in my chest.” You swallowed thickly, stepping closer. He glanced toward the children. “But I can’t keep waking up like this, hard as a rock, running into the ocean like a fool—freezing my balls off.”

You laughed again, unable to help it. “Do you want help next time, ma Neteyam?” His eyes darkened, lips quirking. “Don’t start, yawne. I’m barely holding on as it is.” You smiled at him with soft eyes, brushing his hair from his face. “Then maybe you should stop fighting so hard. Come back to me. All the way.”

He leaned in, almost without thinking, but then pulled back with a sigh. “I don’t want to mess this up again,” he said. “So I’ll wait until I know for sure I’m ready. You deserve all of me.” You nodded. “And you’ll get there. But maybe next time, skip the icy ocean.” He looked down at his lap, where the evidence of his dreams had finally subsided. “Good. Because my balls still haven’t recovered.” You giggled, smacking his arm. “Go warm up, skxawng. I’ll make tea.”

As you turned, he reached out and caught your wrist gently. “Hey.” You turned back. His gaze was full of everything he couldn’t quite say yet. “I love you,” he said, voice quiet. Your heart skipped. You squeezed his hand. “I know.” I giggle, “I love you more.” And as the morning sun broke through the clouds, there was a quiet promise lingering in the space between your joined hands: He was coming home. Fully. One dream, one breath, one kiss at a time.

The night was still. Quiet but for the gentle whisper of waves against the reef, and the occasional coo or sigh from the children shifting in their sleep. Neteyam sat on the mat, legs crossed, the tablet glowing faintly in his hands. You had already told him—twice—to come to bed. You were curled up at the far end of the mat, Kiriya tucked in your arms, Likan curled against your side, and Eylan’s head resting gently near yours. But still, he stayed up. Still, he scrolled.

He couldn’t stop. The images, the videos… they were you. Him. All the small things that should’ve been ordinary felt sacred now. You walking through the forest, barefoot, laughing. You trying to cut fruit with a curved blade and muttering curses under your breath when it slipped. You with the boys—smeared in mud, singing lullabies, dancing in the kitchen. Every second was a thread. And slowly, they were stitching his life back together.

Then he tapped a file. One he hadn’t seen before, the screen went black for a moment, then it lit up. It was you. Dressed in Omatikayan wedding cloth—deep forest green and rich maroon threads, handmade jewelry wrapped delicately around your wrists and ankles. Beads adorned your hair. Your face was dewy with tears. You stood inside a new home, just barely furnished, still smelling of fresh cut wood and woven palms. You looked straight into the camera and sniffled, smiling so wide it cracked through your tears.

“We’re mated.” You laughed, wiping your eyes. “I can’t believe it. I mean… I can, because of course it’s him. But I’m still—I’m married to Neteyam. The love of my life.” You giggled. “He went back to get the rest of our stuff. He wouldn’t let me help. He said, ‘Just stay here, baby. I’ll bring home our whole world.’” You glanced around, eyes full of emotion. “This is it. Our home. He built this with his own hands for us. And somehow, I get to live here with him.” The camera shook slightly as you leaned in. Your eyes were shining. Honest. “He loves me. He loves me so much. Even when I’m angry. Even when I don’t get things right. Even when I talk too much or sleep with my feet freezing cold. He never complains. He just… pulls me close. He tells me I’m everything he ever wanted.” You breathed out slowly, clutching something—your courting token—in your hand. “I never thought I’d have this. I never thought I’d get to be chosen. But he chose me. And I’ll spend, the rest of my life loving him the way he loves me. The way he made me feel like I deserve and the way I know he deserves.” The video ended quietly. Neteyam’s chest caved inward as he stared at the dark screen, frozen.

And then—It hit him. Everything. Like water crashing through a dam. The forest. The moment you first reached for his hand. The first time you slept curled up together under the stars. Your first kiss, his fingers trembling where they touched your jaw. His face pressed into your neck the night you gave birth to Eylan. You squeezing his hand, eyes locked on him as Likan came into the world. Your laughter. Your cries. The fights. The passion. The love. Every. Single. Second. He gasped—choked on air—and jerked forward as if the wind had been knocked out of him. His hands trembled violently. You stirred. He didn’t even realize how loud he’d whispered your name. “Ma—ma yawne—” You blinked awake slowly, sleep-soft and groggy. “Teyam?”

But his hand was already on your cheek, his breath hitching, eyes wide and wet as he leaned over you. And that was when Kiriya stirred—your movement jostling her. She let out a sharp cry, confused and still tired. Likan, pressed against you, whined and flailed sleepily. Eylan murmured something and turned over. You sat up quickly, trying to hush her, but Neteyam was shaking—smiling—and crying all at once, one hand over his mouth, the tablet slipping from his lap. You turned to him in confusion. “Neteyam—what—?” He was already pulling you close, chest heaving as he clung to you, half-laughing, half-sobbing. “I remember.” His voice broke. “I remember everything.” Your heart stopped. “What—”

“Everything.” He leaned his forehead against yours. “You. Our life. The boys. Kiriya.” His hand hovered over her; chest wracked with emotion. “*You were right. You’ve always been right. I was yours. I’ve always been yours.” The emotion in your chest was a storm. You couldn’t speak. You could barely breathe.

Then you heard feet, running. Kiri burst in, wide-eyed, Neytiri behind her. Jake wasn’t far. Tuk, sleepy and bleary, trailed behind holding her bow. Lo’ak came in next, tense and worried. “What happened?! Is something wrong?” Kiri’s eyes landed on Neteyam’s face—his tear-streaked, smiling face—and yours, where you trembled and wept against him. Neytiri’s breath caught. Jake’s shoulders slumped in relief. You turned to them, cradling Kiriya as Neteyam wrapped an arm around all three of his children, pulling them in.

“He remembers.” The room stilled. Kiri’s hands flew to her mouth. Neytiri was crying in seconds, turning into Jake’s chest. Tuk ran forward, hugging Neteyam’s leg. “You’re back?” He laughed wetly. “I’m back, Tuk.” Lo’ak stared, stunned, then shook his head in disbelief. “You’re such a skxawng,” he muttered, voice cracking. “I’m gonna punch you so hard later.” Neteyam only nodded, tears slipping free as he held you tighter. “Go ahead,” he whispered. “I probably deserve it.” You were sobbing now, holding onto him as he kissed your temple again and again, touching your face, your hands, your belly, like he had to feel every part of you to make sure you were real. He remembered. Everything. And from this moment on, he would never forget again.

Once the noise settled and the tears dried, the Sully family gave their son one last round of bone-crushing hugs, quiet laughter, and forehead kisses before Neytiri gently ushered everyone back to their mauri, smiling through her tears.

“I’ll see you in the morning, ma’itan,” Neytiri whispered as she smoothed his hair like she had when he was a boy. “My son has returned.” Jake gripped his shoulder with pride, his eyes red. “We’ll talk tomorrow. You’ll explain everything… after you sleep.” Kiri gave him a long, tight hug, and even Lo’ak ruffled his hair with a sigh that sounded suspiciously like relief. “You’re lucky I love you, bro,” he muttered. “You’re lucky I remember you,” Neteyam replied with a grin.

After the family trickled out, leaving only the soft glow of a candle and the quiet hum of night, you found yourself staring at the mat, where the three kids had already started dozing again in the aftermath of their interrupted slumber.

Likan had kicked off his blanket and sprawled belly-first across a woven pillow like a tiny lizard. Eylan had found his way to the spot Neteyam sat in earlier and curled up there like it was still warm, his little face slack with sleep. Kiriya, sweet and full after nursing, lay content against your shoulder, her soft breaths ghosting across your collarbone. “Stars,” you whispered, looking at the chaos. “They sleep like drunk adults.”

Neteyam let out a small, husky laugh and dropped into the mat beside you, his shoulders finally relaxed, his posture slouched in a way you hadn’t seen in months—like the weight of confusion had fallen off his chest. “You always said that” he said with a grin, brushing Likan’s stray braid out of his face. “I never understood it until now. He sleeps like he fought a tree.”

“He did fight a tree yesterday,” you said, smirking. “Lost, too.” Neteyam chuckled, glancing at you as you gently laid Kiriya down between the pillows and tucked her beside her brothers. You both stared down at them in silence.

“I missed this,” he said softly. You turned to him, laying on your side, your hand propping your head up. “You didn’t know you were missing it.” He groaned and replied “I know. That’s the part that kills me.” You reached across the mat and touched his wrist. “You came back to us. That’s all that matters.” His eyes softened. “You kept this going. All of it. The home. The kids. Me.”

“I cried. A lot,” you admitted. “And yelled. And didn’t shower nearly enough.” Neteyam grinned. “You smell fine. You always smell like… berries and sunlight and baby.” You giggle softly. “That’s either really sweet or mildly offensive.”

“Depends on the baby,” he joked. Then, after a beat, his smile faded into something gentler. “I remember what you went through. At least, parts of it. When I was shot. When you saw me unconscious. The birth of Kiriya.” You blinked. “You remember that?”

He nodded. “Not the pain. But I remember her crying. And Lo’ak’s voice. And yours.” His gaze dropped to your belly. “You were in so much pain, and I wasn’t there. And then you were holding her and sobbing because I didn’t wake up.” Tears welled in your eyes. “You remember that?” He reached over and cupped your cheek. “I do now. It all came back. I felt like I’d forgotten how to breathe without you. But the second I saw that video of you—our wedding, you talking to the camera—it was like my whole soul snapped into place.” You sniffled, trying not to cry again. “I didn’t know if you’d ever see that.”

“I’m glad I did. You were so beautiful in that video.” His grin returned, sly this time. “I remember how long it took me to take those wraps off.” You flushed. “Don’t start, Neteyam. The kids are—” He leaned closer, teasing. “All asleep. Deep, drooling sleep. We could draw on their faces and they wouldn’t notice.” You swatted his shoulder, laughing into your hand. “You’re horrible.”

“I’m yours,” he whispered, brushing your fingers aside to kiss your knuckles. You stared at him, your heart full to the brim. “You’re sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.” He lay down facing you, so close now your foreheads touched. “I remember every scar, every fight, every kiss, every moment I told you I loved you—and everyone I didn’t say it but showed it anyway. I remember you, yawne. All of you.” You swallowed around the lump in your throat, your fingers finding his, tangled loosely between your bodies. “You’re gonna have to prove it, you know.” He smirked. “Oh, I plan to.” Kiriya stirred in her sleep with a little grunt and both of you froze, peeking over her bundled shape. “She’s got your nose,” Neteyam whispered. You smiled. “And your attitude. She screams when her milk isn’t warm enough like I can do anything about it.” He laughed softly “She’s perfect.”

“She’s ours.” Neteyam leaned forward, gently pressing a kiss to your brow, your temple, then your lips. It was soft. Familiar. Like coming home. When you pulled apart, he yawned—finally—and tucked himself closer to you, curling behind Kiriya as you remained on your side facing him. “This side better than mine,” he mumbled. “Because it’s mine,” you teased. “I’m never leaving it again.” And you believed him. As the rain danced on the thatched roof above and your family slept safely around you, you let your eyes drift closed. Neteyam was home.

Lina paced the length of her mauri, the woven floor creaking softly beneath her bare feet. The ocean breeze no longer felt soothing—it was biting. Mocking. Her hands trembled as she set down the shell bowl, she had no intention of eating from. The scent of sea fruit made her stomach turn. Three weeks. That’s how long it had been since she’d last seen Neteyam.

No word. No visit. No trace of the man who once sat beside her every evening, tangled in her nets, tangled in her. Gone, like fog when the sun rises. And worse—worse—he had moved back into the home he once shared with you. That forest-bred thing he couldn’t remember loving. That mate who stood in her way again. She had heard it secondhand. Whispers from the market, low murmurs from children, the ripple of gossip as effortless as breath. “Did you hear? Neteyam moved back in with his family.”

“He carries the little one again, helps the boys bathe by the shore.”

“They say he remembers.”

That last part hit like a blade. He remembered. She’d dropped her basket when she heard, too stunned to care that her gathered sea herbs had spilled across the coral path. Her chest had gone tight, her vision narrowed. She hadn’t cried. No. She didn’t cry. But the burn in her throat was undeniable. He remembered. And he didn’t even say goodbye. He hadn’t needed to. You’d won. Again.

All her work, all her effort—everything she gave him: her attention, her patience, her body, her time—it had been for nothing. For a glimpse. A taste. And then gone. But Lina wasn’t the kind of woman to lose quietly. She sat that night beside her hearth, face lit by dim firelight, fingers curled tightly around a carving knife. She didn’t think about stabbing anything. Not really. Just the weight of it. The way the handle fit in her hand. She needed control. She needed something. Then the plan began to spin in her mind, fine and sharp as woven fishing line. If Neteyam remembered everything—everything—then surely, he also remembered pain. Jealousy. Doubt. The flaws. The insecurities. And maybe… just maybe, if she sowed the right seed, it would take root.

She didn’t know about your moment with Lo’ak—how could she? But that didn’t stop her from making one up. She found the right voice, trembling, sweet, just innocent enough. She whispered it first to a pair of girls near the shore. “They say she was never loyal,” she sighed. “Even when Neteyam was still unconscious. I heard Lo’ak was always around. Maybe too much.” She knew how to pick the right moments. Who to speak near, she wasn’t foolish enough to name names or say it too directly. But whispers had power in a clan this tightly knit. “Did you see how Lo’ak always carries the boys around? It’s like they’re his.”

“I thought she moved on. I heard she and Neteyam weren’t… together when the baby came.”

“She and Lo’ak used to sneak off into the woods before dinner, remember?”

Lies. Crafted with care. Not wild ones, but the kind that sounded like they could be true. And they spread. Lina watched from the rocks, arms crossed, as you passed with Kiriya in your sling and Neteyam at your side, your boys trailing behind him, clinging to their father’s fingers. You were laughing. He was smiling—genuinely smiling. Her stomach twisted. It wasn’t fair.

She had earned him. She’d been there when no one else had. When he didn’t know his name, she had whispered it against his skin. When he forgot who he was, she told him he was hers. But that version of him—blank, open, lost—was slipping further away with each passing day. So, her smile turned thin and patient, her hands laced sweetly in her lap, but her eyes stayed sharp. Scheming. She wasn’t done. Not yet.

It started with whispers — again. You had exactly, one week of peace together. But this time, the whispers were about you. At first, Neteyam tried to ignore them. He wanted to. He wanted to stay focused on the life he was building back — the family dinners, the quiet moments with Kiriya curled into his chest, the way Eylan giggled when he tossed him into the shallows, Likan’s sticky kisses, your soft sleepy smile before dawn. That was his life. But the voices got louder.

“She was with Lo’ak even before the baby came, I heard.”

“I saw them, always together, before Neteyam woke up. Touching.”

“Maybe the little one isn’t even his. Look at her eyes.”

“You think that’s why Lo’ak always helps with the kids? Guilt?”

One thing Neteyam had learned since regaining his memories: gossip in the clan was like a storm on the sea. Small at first, and then suddenly everywhere, churning, devouring, crashing over every surface. And it hurt. It hurt more than anything had in the last few months — because he had forgiven you. You had told him everything. That one kiss. That one moment of weakness. And he knew you regretted it. You had been broken. Alone. You had never stopped loving him. He knew that. But now, it wouldn’t leave his mind, the noise of it. Over and over. What if there was more? What if everyone else knew something he didn’t? He tried to push it down. Until the final blow came. “Lo’ak said something once… he said he loved her. That’s what I heard.” Neteyam lost it.

The entire family was gathered, talking near the cluster of Sully-linked mauri when it exploded. You were inside yours with the kids, nursing Kiriya down for her nap, and Neteyam was supposed to be helping Jake with spear repairs — but his voice rang out loud enough to stop everything. “You swore it was only one kiss!” Neteyam’s voice cracked like thunder, loud and hurt and furious. “One mistake! And now I’m hearing that my daughter might not even be mine?! That you and my wife—” Jake stepped in immediately, pushing a hand against Neteyam’s chest. “Hey! Hey! Watch yourself—” Lo’ak’s face twisted in confusion and disbelief. “Bro—what the fuck are you talking about?”

“You knew she was mine!” Neteyam shouted at him, ignoring everyone else, fury pouring out of every muscle. “You stood by her while I was dying, and now I’m finding out you touched her? Loved her? Are you proud of that?” Lo’ak stumbled back, face blanching. “No. What—Neteyam, I never—! It wasn’t like that! You know that!” Neytiri’s voice sliced through the air. “Enough.” But it was too late. You stepped out of the mauri then — Kiriya in your sling, wide-eyed, blinking against the noise. You looked… shattered. Neteyam saw you. The pain on your face. The hurt. The sheer shock at what he was saying. And still — still — he couldn’t stop himself. “Did you sleep with him?” he asked, low now. “Tell me right now, if you ever—” Your eyes welled up. “How dare you?” Everyone froze. You backed away slowly, turning without another word, disappearing down the sand path.

And then, a day passed. Two. You barely left the mauri, save for fetching food for the kids, helping them bathe and nap. You didn’t want to see anyone. You didn’t want to see him. Which is exactly when she came. Lina, you didn’t realize it was her before, honestly you didn’t even know what she looked like, but then she started talking. Soft-voiced. Sweet-smiled. Innocent eyes. “Oh,” she said gently, “I just… I saw you out, and I wanted to say I’m so sorry for what everyone’s saying.” You didn’t respond. She stepped closer. “It must be hard, all the lies. But if anyone’s lying, it’s not you.” You blinked, confused. She leaned in, whispering. “Neteyam lied to me too. Said he wasn’t with you anymore. I wouldn’t have ever let it happen otherwise. But… he got me pregnant. So… I guess you’re not the only one he’s been lying to.” Silence. Your vision blacked out. You shoved Kiriya’s fruit basket into Lina’s chest and bolted.

The entire family saw it. The storm that broke next. You stormed into the Sully cluster of mauri, hair wild, eyes blazing, your body shaking with rage, and before Neteyam could say a word—your fist collided with his jaw. “Motherfucker.” He stumbled back, hand to his mouth. “Wha—?!”

“You accused me of things I never did! Sleeping with your brother?! And now—NOW I find out you got the girl pregnant?! After everything?!”

“What?! Wait, what the fuck are you talking about?!” You shoved him again, sobbing, your arms flailing, “I loved you. I forgave you! I took you back, I let you in our home! And the whole time—”

“She said I what…?” Neteyam asked again. Lo’ak repeated it, slowly, disbelief still etched into his features. “She told your wife… that you got her pregnant, bro.”

“She—” Neteyam shook his head, blinking fast like he could erase the whole moment. “No. No. I never… Eywa. I never even slept with her.” You scoffed bitterly, a sharp sound that cut deeper than your fist had. “Well, she says you did.”

“I didn’t!” Neteyam barked, stepping forward, eyes pleading. “We… we kissed. She touched me, I told you that. But I never— I never laid with her.” You held up your hand, cutting him off like a blade. “Don’t. I swear to Eywa, don’t come any closer.” He stopped dead in his tracks. Jake stepped forward. “We need to get to the bottom of this. Now.”

That’s when Kiri ran up, breathless. “I heard it,” she gasped. “The other girls were talking. It’s Lina. She started the rumors. She’s the one who said the baby might not be Neteyam’s. She’s been lying this whole time. I knew it. I knew something was off—” The entire family turned quiet. Everything made sense. The rumors. The whispers. The timing. Neytiri’s face went pale with rage. Jake’s jaw was clenched like stone. And you—broken, shaking, furious—you stepped back, whispering only: “I hope she’s worth it.” Neteyam didn’t say a word.

Because for once… he had none. The silence after your final words was thick and suffocating. Your voice still rang in everyone’s ears. Kiri stood stiffly off to the side, face pale and lips pressed tight, trying to catch her breath after rushing from the far reef. Neytiri stood close to her, a trembling hand on Kiri’s shoulder. Lo’ak had his hand on your back, trying to steady you as you held Kiriya close now, her tiny fists gripping your braid, confused by all the shouting. Likan and Eylan stood by Jake’s side, wide-eyed and silent, watching everything with the sense that something very, very big had just happened.

Neteyam’s lip was bleeding. A trickle ran down the side of his mouth, where your fist had landed hard. He didn’t wipe it. He didn’t move at all. Just stood there, heart pounding out of rhythm, staring at you like he couldn’t breathe. Jake crossed his arms, staring hard at Neteyam. “Then you need to find out the truth.”

“What?” Neteyam’s eyes darted from his father to you, shaking his head. “I told you. It’s not true.”

“You think I care what you say right now?” you hissed, voice low and deadly. Kiri took Kiriya from your arms gently, but your hands didn’t fall limp — they curled into fists again. “I stood in front of your family, of my family, and defended you when you asked for space. When you forgot me. When you kissed her. When she touched you. I let it go because I loved you enough to let you find your way back. And now this?” Neteyam opened his mouth, but you didn’t let him speak.

“You accused me of being unfaithful,” you said through your teeth. “Of letting your brother touch me. Of lying about our children. You believed the rumors without asking me first, and now you expect me to stand by and let you see her again? After she says you got her pregnant?”

You took one step closer, the fire from your soul blazing in your eyes. “I don’t care what you find out. I don’t care what she says. I don’t want you anywhere near that woman again. You walk into her mauri, Neteyam, and you stay there. You hear me?” He flinched at your words like they were lashes. Neytiri finally spoke, her voice cold, quiet. “She manipulated you. Lied. Twisted her way into this family’s peace. If you don’t find the truth, she will never stop.”

“And if she’s not pregnant?” Lo’ak asked warily. “If it’s just another lie?” Jake added grimly, “Tonowari and Ronal will deal with it.” Neteyam looked torn apart. His face was pale, expression twisted with a storm of pain. “I never wanted this.”

“But you made choices,” you said softly now, quieter. It was worse than yelling. “And now you live with them.”

“I’m sorry.” You scoffed. “You believed everything she said.”

“I didn’t! Not all of it, not really,” he argued, eyes desperate now. “But I— I wasn’t thinking. I was a mess. And she— she took advantage of that—” Lo’ak cut in, jaw tight. “Yeah, we know. But the damage is done. The clan’s talking like it’s already true.”

“I don’t care what the clan says!” you snarled. “I care about my children hearing lies that their father has another family!” Jake raised his hands, trying to calm the growing storm. “Enough. Both of you. We need to figure this out. Without sending Neteyam back there.”

Neteyam looked over at Jake now, lost. “How do we find out? If she won’t talk to anyone else, and I can’t—won’t—go near her?”

Kiri stepped forward slowly. “I might have a way.” Everyone turned to her. Kiri’s eyes were steady, serious now. “She talks to someone every day. A younger girl named Aluke. She was the first to start repeating the rumors about everything — about the baby not being yours. She might’ve overheard something else. She’s not very good at keeping her mouth shut.” You narrowed your eyes. “You think you can get her to talk?” Kiri tilted her head. “If she’s anything like she was as a child, yes. If not, I’ll figure out another way.” Lo’ak nodded. “If she’s saying too much, she’ll keep talking. Maybe she knows Lina’s real intentions. Maybe she even knows it’s a lie.”

“I’ll go with Kiri,” Neytiri said, jaw clenched. “That girl said she saw the kiss between you two.” Lo’ak grimaced. “That lie ends today, too,” Neytiri hissed. Jake nodded. “Good, go.” You didn’t speak again — just nodded, sharp and stiff, and turned back toward the mauri with your children. Neteyam reached out instinctively — not to stop you, but to be near you. “Ma yawne—” You turned your face just enough to look at him over your shoulder. There was no softness in your eyes. “I meant it,” you said again, low and quiet. “If you go near her, we’re done.” He watched as you disappeared inside with Kiriya on your hip, Likan trailing behind you sleepily, Eylan still gripping your hand tightly.

The night settled in around them like a heavy blanket, no stars visible behind the clouds. And all Neteyam could think, again and again, was: ‘what if it is… and I’ve destroyed everything anyway?’

The rain had started up again just before nightfall — soft and drizzling, tapping against the woven leaves of your mauri like a lullaby meant for someone else. Not for you. Not for the mess your life had become. You sat curled up against the far wall, knees pulled tight to your chest, your arms wrapped around them as Kiriya nursed at your breast, her soft suckling the only real sound in the room. Likan and Eylan were asleep on the furs, their small bodies curled up together near the low-burning fire pit, unaware of the storm — outside or inside.

Your face was damp, and not just from the rain that had kissed your skin earlier. You’d cried so hard your ribs ached. Your stomach burned. Your soul had frayed. You didn’t look up when you heard the flap of the doorway shift. Neteyam stepped in quietly, his shoulders hunched, eyes rimmed red and jaw tight. He was breathing like he’d run here — or maybe like he was trying not to scream. He saw you and stopped mid-step. You didn’t say anything. Couldn’t. “Can I talk to you?” he asked, softly. Like you were something fragile. Like the wrong word would break you for good.

You didn’t answer. Just stared down at Kiriya, who had stopped feeding and now blinked up at you sleepily, pawing at your chest. Neteyam took it as a maybe and came closer, crouching slowly beside you, careful not to disturb the boys. “I know you’re hurting,” he whispered. “And I deserve it. I do. I just— I need you to know something. Really know it.”

You finally looked at him. Your face was blotchy, lips trembling, eyes bloodshot. His heart cracked wide open. “I didn’t sleep with her,” he said, quickly, his voice raw. “No matter what she says, or what anyone says… I swear it on Eywa. On my soul. I didn’t. I never did.” You stared at him for a moment, like you weren’t sure if your heart could risk believing him again.

“She tried,” he said. “A lot. But every time… something pulled me back. It didn’t feel right. It never did. Even when I didn’t remember everything, there was something wrong about it. And I promise, I promise baby I told you everything. Everything that happened.” Your voice cracked when it came. “You touched her.”

“Yes,” he said honestly. “I did. And she touched me. I’m not going to lie to you. But it didn’t go further than that. I never let it. I never wanted to go all the way, even when I was confused. I didn’t let her stay with me. I didn’t let her into our home. I never crossed that line.” You choked. “Then how—how could you still accuse me?”

“I was scared,” he admitted, his voice nearly breaking. “I heard what people were saying and I thought… I thought maybe I deserved it. Maybe it was true and I— I couldn’t breathe. I lashed out. And I know it was wrong. I’m so sorry.” He dropped his head, resting his forehead on your knees. “I was stupid. I let myself get pulled into something I knew deep down wasn’t real. Not like this. Not like us. And now you’re hurting. And I did that. I did that.” You finally spoke again, whisper soft. “She said she’s pregnant.”

“I don’t care,” he said quickly. “If she is, it’s not mine. It can’t be. She’s lying. She has to be. And if she’s not… she was with someone else.” You stared at him, your hand resting on Kiriya’s back. “Why would she say it, then?”

“Because she knew I was slipping away,” he said. “I stopped going. I stopped touching her. I came home. She saw. She knew I remembered. That’s why she did this. To punish me. To keep you from forgiving me.” Your bottom lip quivered. “You don’t deserve forgiveness.”

“I know. But I’ll spend the rest of my life earning it if you’ll let me.” A silence passed. The sound of Kiriya’s breath. The fire crackling. A gust of wind outside. You wiped your cheek with the back of your hand. “I don’t believe she’s carrying your child.” Neteyam’s eyes met yours, startled.

“I don’t believe her,” you repeated. “Because I know you. Even with your memory gone, I knew who you were. You wouldn’t do that. You wouldn’t give her that. You could make mistakes, sure. But that? No.” His throat bobbed. “I swear I didn’t.”

“I believe you.” Tears welled in his eyes, falling freely now. “Thank you.”

“I’m still angry,” you added quickly. “I’m so angry. I’m not ready to just… be okay. But I needed to hear it from you. That it wasn’t true.” He nodded, eyes shining. “I’ll take whatever you can give me.”

“I can’t give much,” you whispered. “I’ll still be here.” You exhaled slowly, eyes falling to the sleeping boys, then to Kiriya now curled against your shoulder. “I need you to be the father they deserve. Not the man that woman wanted you to be.”

“I will be,” he whispered. “I swear, yawne. No more lies. No more her.” Your lip trembled again. “You’re not allowed to leave us again.”

“I won’t.” He reached out, gently covering your hand with his.

The fire had burned low. The boys still slept, warm and safe beneath the woven furs. Kiriya dozed in your arms again, her soft little face pressed against your bare chest, one tiny hand curled at your throat. You rocked her absently, though your eyes stayed locked on the flames.

Neteyam hadn’t moved far. He knelt just beside you still, silent, watching the way you held your daughter. The weight of everything hung between you — grief, pain, betrayal, but also something else. The flicker of something alive. Something trying to bloom back to life in the ash of everything you’d survived.

When Kiriya let out a soft sigh, eyes fluttering fully closed, you shifted and began to lower her gently to the mat, tucking her into the blankets beside her brothers. You stroked her cheek once and then let yourself sit back — your hands trembling from the storm you hadn’t yet shaken loose. Then… Neteyam reached for you. Slow. Gentle.

His hands came to your waist first, then slipped around your back, tugging you into him. You let it happen, though your arms stayed limp at your sides, your face burying into his shoulder automatically as your body began to tremble again. Not loud, not dramatic. Just deep, silent sobs. The kind that come when the worst has already passed, and all that’s left is the exhaustion of surviving it. He rocked you gently. “Ma yawne,” he whispered, over and over. “Oeyä yawne. I’m so sorry. I’m here. I’m here.”

His hands rubbed up and down your spine, anchoring you against him, his breath warm at your temple. You clung to him then, arms looping tightly around his chest, pulling yourself into his warmth as if you could melt into him and never have to leave. “Forgive me,” he whispered, voice trembling. “Please. I’ll say it every day. I’ll say it in my sleep. I’ll never stop saying it. But you have to know — I never stopped loving you. Even when I didn’t know who I was… something in me always knew you.”

You pulled back just enough to look at him. His face was wet with tears, his eyes searching yours like he was still begging to be allowed this moment. And you nodded. “Then show me,” you whispered. “Show me, ma Neteyam.” He blinked. “Are you sure?” You nodded again, slow and full of meaning. “I want to feel you again. All of you.” He inhaled sharply, heart pounding, and then — reverently, slowly — he reached for your kuru. The moment he touched it, your chest fluttered, and your hands instinctively rose to the braid at the base of his skull. Together… you connected. Tsahaylu. And in an instant — the world shifted.

You gasped softly as everything came crashing in. The pain he’d been holding onto. The regret. The confusion. The shame. And then—underneath it, rising like the tide—the love. So much love. You felt it — how he’d carried your voice in his soul even when he didn’t know it was yours. How home had always been the sound of your laugh. How the dreams haunted him because you were in every one of them — your smile, your body, your touch. How much he missed being yours. Being Neteyam — your Neteyam. And you let him feel everything too.

The moment your belly swelled with Kiriya, and you lay awake at night just praying he’d live to see her. The quiet strength you held for your boys every day while breaking inside. The ache of being forgotten. The pain of being blamed. The unbearable longing for his arms, his voice, his eyes full of love. How you still wore his courting token in your hair every day. How even after everything — you still loved him. Still chose him. A choked breath left his throat, and he crushed you into his chest again, one hand cradling your head, the other spreading across your back.

“I can’t believe I forgot I had this,” he whispered hoarsely. “Everything. Every moment. Every promise I made. I meant them all.”

“I know,” you whispered back, your breath catching as more tears fell, softer this time. Cleansing. “I know, ma tìyawn. So did I.” He kissed your hair, your cheek, your temple, tenderly, over and over like he couldn’t stop. His hands shook against your skin. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness,” he murmured.

“You already have it,” you said quietly. “You always did. You were sick, Neteyam. Lost. But I knew you’d find your way.”

“And you waited,” he whispered. “Even when I was breaking your heart.”

“I prayed for you every night,” you said. “I loved you even when it hurt.” He pulled back and touched your cheek with such reverence it made your eyes sting all over again. “I don’t know how I ever looked at another woman when you were right here.” You let out a broken laugh, and he laughed too, just a little, brushing his nose against yours. “You’re such an idiot,” you whispered, watery and smiling. “Biggest skxawng in the clan,” he agreed softly.

You both stayed there for a long time — connected, bonded, whole — until the fire burned down to embers and the soft rise and fall of your children’s breathing filled the quiet night. For the first time in moons, you weren’t broken anymore. You were together You looked up at him, your fingers still trembling in his. Your tears had dried, but their weight clung to your chest. The soft glow of the lantern in the corner of the mauri cast golden light over Neteyam’s face, over the worry in his brow, the love in his eyes.

You had missed him. Missed the warmth of him. The way his arms felt like protection. The way his presence calmed the storm in your chest like nothing else ever could. His hand rose to brush your cheek, thumb grazing softly over the edge of your jaw. “You’re still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he whispered, his voice low, reverent, full of ache. Your breath caught. “You don’t have to say that just because you remember now.”

“I’m not,” he murmured. “I’m saying it because I feel it. Because I’ve always felt it.” Then he kissed you. Slowly, gently—like a prayer, like an apology, like a promise. His lips moved with care, like he was relearning the shape of you, the rhythm of your breath. You shifted carefully until you were straddling his lap, your hands slid up his arms, his shoulders, anchoring yourself to him as his fingers trailed down your sides, not rushed or demanding—but familiar.

He paused, eyes locking with yours. “Can I…?” he asked, voice quiet, but full of need. Full of reverence. You nodded, breathless, pulling him closer. He leaned in again, lips brushing your temple, your cheek, the corner of your mouth. “I want to take every doubt out of your body,” he whispered. “Every lie she told, every word I ever said that made you feel less.”

Slowly, tenderly, he slid away the fabric of your chest wrap, revealing skin he hadn’t touched in what felt like years. He kissed every place he uncovered—your collarbone, the hollow of your throat, your shoulder. His hands were careful, steady, full of quiet devotion.

“I missed you,” he said against your skin. “The way you laugh. The way you look when you hold our children. The way your eyes soften when you’re teasing me. I remember all of it now.” You breathed in shakily, fingers in his hair. “Then show me.” And he did. Every kiss was a promise. Every whisper a vow. No rush. No demands. Just the slow, sacred return to something only the two of you had ever shared. To something no one—not even memory loss, not even betrayal—could truly erase. When he finally held you in his arms, skin to skin, soul to soul, the weight you’d been carrying fell away. You weren’t just forgiving each other. You were finding your way back home.

His hands moved with a reverence that made your breath catch, as if every part of you deserved to be memorized all over again. And maybe you did—maybe he did, too. His lips traveled slowly, unhurried, pressing to every dip and curve like he was rediscovering sacred ground. Neteyam was about to lay you down onto the mat but then the Likan shifted, and you both paused looking over at him. Instead, you silently pointed to the fur rug in front of the fireplace, and he lifted you effortlessly, laying you down in front of the warmth.

When he kissed down your body, over your chest, the soft skin of your stomach, and lower, you gasped, a quiet sound that broke somewhere between relief and longing. Your fingers curled against the blankets beneath you, your eyes fluttering shut. It wasn’t just the sensation of his mouth or the trail of heat he left in his wake, it was what it meant. It was him choosing you—not out of duty, not because memory demanded it, but because his heart knew it. Because he remembered. Because he wanted to.

You felt it in the way his lips lingered. In the way his hands steadied your hips like you were something precious. In the way he paused, looking up at you with dark, reverent eyes before continuing, like asking for permission even now. Your heart thudded in your chest, overwhelming and fragile. You whispered his name. Not in desperation—but in awe. He smiled. Softly. Like he knew what this meant. It wasn’t frantic or rushed. It wasn’t about need. It was about presence. You had him again. All of him. The weight of his body, the brush of his breath, the worship in his touch. And for the first time in so long, you weren’t surviving. You were living. You were loved.

Neteyam’s lips brushed your collarbone, slow and warm, and you gasped softly half-laughter, half-need. “You’re laughing?” he murmured against your skin, lips curving into a smile. You giggled breathlessly, your fingers brushing through his braids. “It tickles,” you whispered, voice catching. “You’re not usually this slow.” He chuckled, dragging his lips to your neck. “I’ve been gone a while,” he said lowly, “I think I’m allowed to savor my wife.”

You bit your lip. “You’re lucky I missed you.” He lifted his head just long enough to meet your eyes. “Missed me? Or missed this?” His hand slid along your thigh, deliberate but gentle. You grinned. “Don’t act like you don’t know.”

“I want to hear you say it,” he teased, voice dipping as he nipped at your shoulder. “Fine,” you breathed, a flush blooming over your cheeks. “I missed your mouth… and your hands… and the way you—” You broke off with a gasp as he found a spot that made you squirm. “There?” he said with a smirk, nosing into your neck. You shoved at his chest, laughing. “You’re so smug.”

“Only when I’ve earned it.” You arched slightly, brushing your lips against his ear. “You haven’t yet.” His growl was soft but promising. “Challenge accepted.” You both laughed, your bodies close, breaths mingling. Then he stilled for a moment, his forehead resting against yours. “You’re still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he said, voice barely a whisper. “I thought I’d never remember what you felt like. But now… I’ll never forget again.” Your eyes stung, heart pounding. “Then don’t ever leave me again, mighty warrior.” He leaned in, brushing your lips with his. “Never,” he promised.

Your breath hitched as his mouth wandered lower, slow and reverent, and your hand found its way to his hair. “You always do this,” you murmured, voice trembling with a smile. “Do what?” His voice was low, warm against your skin. “Take your time… like you’re unwrapping a gift.” He chuckled. “You are a gift. I’ve been starving, yawntu. Let me taste what I nearly lost.” His lips kissed down and around both your breast before kissing your nipple softly, his lips dragged against the harden nub You blushed hard at his words, shivering under his touch. “You’re saying things that make my knees weak,” you whispered.

“Good,” he said, tongue darting out to give you a tantalizing, slow flick. “Because I remember now. I remember exactly how to make you fall apart.” You gasped, laughing lightly, trying to tug him back up to kiss you, but he resisted, trailing his fingers up your sides instead. “No, no,” he teased, grinning against your skin. “You said I hadn’t earned it yet.” You whined. “Neteyam…”

“Say it again.” His tone was softer now, tender. “Say my name like that.” He moved his head down after biting your nipple and tugging softly making a little mess in his mouth. “Neteyam.” Your voice cracked on it, raw and breathless. He kissed down the curve of your ribs, slow and steady. “There it is.” A pause. “You always said it like that. Like it was sacred.”

“It is,” you whispered, cupping his face and drawing him up to you. “You are.” He kissed you then — slow, searching, aching — and as he hovered above you, his forehead pressed to yours, your legs tangled beneath the covers, you felt the shift. “Do you remember this part too?” you asked shyly, teasing. He laughed softly. “I remember everything to know you used to beg.” You let out a scandalized gasp. “I did not.”

“You did,” he said with a smug smile. “Especially when I’d tease these cute nipples with my tongue and my fingers….and when I sucked on your pretty clit and stuck my tongue in this tight little hole.” He leaned down and whispered something in your ear that made you swat at his arm, breathless and flushed. His fingers ran down your body, all the way dow between your bare thighs to rub small light circles on your clit, making you whimper “Fuck…!” you said, burying your face in his neck.

“You love it,” he whispered against your shoulder. “I love you,” you corrected, breath heavy on his neck as you kissed under his ear He froze, just for a moment but didn’t stop his movements. Then his voice broke as he said, “Say it again.” you repeated, one hand over his heart. “I love you…Always.”

“Even now?” You nodded. “Especially now.” He exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for months. “Then let me show you how much I love you too,” he whispered. “Yes please…” you whisper as he worked his was down once more, smiling as he already got that little ‘please’ out of you. His head disappeared under the thin blanket, kissing and sucking the skin of your thighs, grazing his fangs and sometimes biting like he really was getting taste out of the act. Your moaned softly into the air having to control your voice now more than ever, not wanting to be interrupted. Neteyam’s hands wrapped around your thighs pulling you closer and tossing your legs over his shoulders, his breath lingered on your core making you clench around nothing before you felt his mouth on you.

His tongue worked magic between your thighs, hit the spots he had hit perfected for years, as if it was the only thing in the world he was supposed to remember. It’s been so long since felt him you didn’t realize you’d want to cum so fast, his tongue flicked up and down, side to side making you arch your back and whimpers escape from your lips. Your hands tangled into his braids tugging him closer as if his face could be anymore buried in you. He sucked on your clit making your eyes go wide and your grip tighten in his hair as you hiss into the air, “oh…oh my Eywa…” you whispered clenching your teeth and squeezing your eyes shut as he fucked his tongue into you, it only took a few sweet thrust before you were cuming on his tongue, your essence messing up his face, your thighs, and leaking down his chin to his neck as he lapped you up sweetly.

His head rose from the blanket as you were trying to catch your breath, he looked very pleased with himself. He wiped his face with the back of his hand before hovering over you again, his fingers trailing down to your core as he kissed you again letting you taste your cum on his tongue, it was sweet, like the flowers he picked for you yesterday. Your thighs twitched as his fingers made may to your hole, but you stopped him, “Ma Teyam…” you mumbled against his lips. He pulled away and looked down at you, “what is it sweetheart?”

You bit your lip at his sweet nickname and took a breath, “don’t…. don’t put your fingers in..” Neteyam tilted his head at your request, it’s been months since the last time you had sex he wasn’t to stretch you out, so it doesn’t hurt as much, and he was about to say so before you spoke again. “Want your cock to stretch me out…wanna feel it” you bit your lip and smile up at him sweetly, as if the most vile words ever didn’t just come out of you. Neteyam let his fingers pause where they were toying between your folds, rubbing against your tight hole and look he gave you was wrecked. “Oh, Great Mother…” His groan punched from his chest like he’d been struck.

You snorted through your nose, half laughing, half breathless. “Shh, the kids are asleep, ma Teyam—” You put a finger to his lips, wide-eyed. “Do not wake them.” He caught your wrist, kissed your fingertip, his voice rough and dark: “Then stop saying things that make me forget we even have children.”

He dipped his head into the crook of your neck, panting hard, his hand that was between your legs now gripped tight on your hips. “You can’t say things like that.” His voice was wrecked, trembling. You tilted your head sweetly. “Why not?” He growled, lifting his head to look at you, eyes ablaze. “Because I’m trying to be gentle, and that…” —he kissed you hard, teeth grazing your lip— “makes me want to ruin you.” You gasped into his mouth, heart pounding. His hands roamed now, slow but more desperate.

“Stars, yawntu,” he muttered, his forehead resting against yours. “You’re going to kill me.” You giggled — quiet and sinful. “You keep saying that.” He groaned again, softer this time, but no less strained. “Don’t do that, don’t laugh like that after you didn’t just say the nastiest thing to me” which made you giggle again. “You want me just like this?” he whispered, voice dipping low, dangerously low. “Want my cock in you just like that?” He asked as if he was confirming that’s what you so desperately wanted. You nodded, lips parted, breathing shallow. And the fire in him roared. “You’re playing a dangerous game.” But even as he said it, he was already gone for you.

His body shifted again, ridding himself of his loincloth now hanging, hard and heavy between his strong thighs over cunt. Before his hand could, you swiped your fingers on your tongue giving them a nice wet lick before grabbing his cock in your hand, your stroked it softly and his body tensed, “oh fuck—great mother” he cursed dropping his head down, so your foreheads touched. “That feel good baby?” You whisper into his mouth as your lips brush, but you didn’t kiss.

“S-so good…” he matched your tone, strained. “My poor husband…so touch starved..” you giggle wickedly but it was still so, so hot to him. “You missed me muntaxtan? Missed the way I touched you? Stroked your cock?” Your words were hot down his throat he couldn’t breathe, so he nodded against you, brushing your skin close, quiet, hot. Like you’d just created a whole world for this moment. “Wanna fuck me muntaxtan?” He nodded again, hand running down your body to grip his out cock over your hand, “yea? Do it…fuck me, put it in muntaxtan…” you edged him as your jaw went slack as he entered you. Slowly, like he was memorizing how ever ridge on his cock, how every bugling vein felt going into your sweet, hot, cunt.

His jaw matched yours swallowing all the moans you let out, with every inch of his thick cock stretching you open. His eyes shut to calm himself, he felt like he could cum on the spot. “Oh…Eywa” you moaned and his eyes darted open, taking in your furrowed brows and heavy panting. His cock was only halfway in at this point, and he stopped, moving back and forth giving you a few shallow thrusts, “calling for God baby? Eywa’s not fucking you, my cock is fucking you…say my name.” His voice was soft but commanding. Your legs wrapped around your waist, one over the other on his back, his tails wrapped around your ankle and yours around his thigh. Neteyam dug his cock deeper in, until he was fulling you completely, cock snug in your cock, “f-fuck…Neteyam.” You whispered into his mouth making him smile, “that’s my good girl…so perfect for me…so good at taking instructions.”

Your eyes rolled you swear you was your brain when he started to move, shallow thrusts at first, balls slapping your skin softly as you took him in. “ah, ah, ah…” you went softly moaning against him. Your hands went up and over his shoulder to his back, digging into the skin as he started to spreed up his thrust. Your moaned start to get louder but he smiled and locked your lips in his kiss, swallowing all your noises, “shh baby…gonna wake the kids and I don’t wanna stop…” his tongue invaded your mouth quickly finding dominance over yours. It was sloppy and wet; you could barely kiss him back feeling him drag his cock against your sweet spot. His thrusts continued to get faster and faster until he was pounding into you, your entire body shook with his movements, but he kept you grounded, complete covered by him.

Your back arched off the soft mat, bringing your chest closer to his. His elbows hit the mat next to you bringing himself impossibly closer. “Oh—oh just like that…please tey—teyam..” you moaned into his mouth, and he let out a grunt. “Just like that?” He repeated moving a little harder and you lost the ability to kiss completely, as you nodded against him. Then suddenly he pulled out completely, you let out a whine in frustration, but it didn’t last long, his hands moved you without a thought, pushing you over onto your side and sliding into the spot behind you, back pressed against his chest facing the fireplace. His hand moved down to grip your right thigh pulling your entire leg up into the air as he effortlessly slides his cock back into your warmth with practiced ease.

Your stomach did flips when he started fucking you again, your hands gripping his arm that ended up under your neck and around the upper half of your body and you bit down on his bicep to keep from getting too loud. Your eyes were teary at this new depth, the way he just fit so perfectly into your cunt like you were made just for him. You sniffled leaning back against him wanting to be as close as possible while made him chuckle, “keep your leg up.” He commanded and took your hand bringing it down to your lower stomach where his cock bugles out and pressing down. You chocked on air feeling his cock move in and out of you, heightened the sensitivity, it was as if he knew (which he did) that spot would over activate your sweet spot. Your eyes widened and your jaw went slack once more; you couldn’t help the moans that escaped you. But he could, he gripped your lower face turning you to kiss him again swallowing up your moans, “feel that baby?” He whispered against your lips, “that’s how good I make you feel, you love it when I pump this cunt full huh?” He asked and you nodded frantically, “yes…yes yes yes feels so good…”

Neteyam smiled into your lips once again, “fuck you’re clenching so hard baby…gonna cum on my cock?” He asked speeding up his thrust once more, he was close too he wanted you to cum with him, and when you confirmed through a heavy moan you were close, he fucked info you faster. His grip tightened and so did yours, his hand that was in your stomach moved—with yours— back around your right thigh intertwining your fingers together as he fucked you. Your release hit you like a rough wave as he emptied himself in you at the same time. Neteyam came so much while his cock was thrusting more and more cum into you, he filled you to the brim, so much so that it leaked out the sides of your cunt even though he was still inside you.

You both came down from your high, cock still snug in you, and his hand rubbed up and down the side of your body, then he stopped and wrapped around you even more holding you there against him, the way it was always meant to be. “That was incredible” you bummed out making him chuckle. “I love you muntaxtan” you whispered to him, eyes closing. “I love you more tìyawn.” He said as he kissed your skin softly.

The fire crackled softly in front of you, casting flickering gold over the quiet curve of your back. The thin woven sheet barely covered the two of you, tangled between legs and limbs as you lay tucked between Neteyam’s arms, your back to his chest. His breath brushed the curve of your neck, slow and even now, but his fingers hadn’t stopped tracing patterns into your skin. Outside, the night sang with insects and the ocean’s lullaby. Inside, it was still. Warm. Full.

Neteyam’s voice broke the silence gently, quiet and husky, his chin resting just above your shoulder. “I used to think home was a place. Forest. Sky. Clan.” You hummed softly, fingers brushing over his as they danced across your stomach. He paused, then pressed a kiss to the back of your shoulder, reverent and slow. “But I know now… home isn’t a place.” He paused. “Home is who you fight for. Who you crawl back to. Who you breathe for.” Another kiss, this one behind your ear. You felt the lump rise in your throat. He whispered it into your skin like it was prayer. “Home is You.”

You turned your face toward him, eyes full and glistening, and he kissed you. A soft, sacred kiss — not rushed, not fiery — just full of love. Of peace. Of truth. In that moment, with your body tucked to his, the fire warming your feet, and the stars peeking through the cracks in the thatched ceiling, everything was exactly as it should be. You smiled against his mouth, your voice a whisper. “And you’re mine.” He pulled you closer. Held you tighter. And there, beneath the soft songs of night and the gentle crackle of fire, the story that once felt like it shattered — finally felt whole again.

💜 Likes comments and reblogs are always appreciated.

💜I hope you all enjoyed reading this, honestly I tried to make it as realistic as possible, relationships are messy, especially when trauma is involved. So please any feedback I’d love to hear, and any ideas are welcome!

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[m1tsu-ki]

🙏🙏🙏I'M LEFT SPEECHLESS, NO WORDS NEEDED HERE JUST LOVE, APPRECIATION AND PERFECTION IN ITS FINEST

Love Of My Life (part two)

Paring: Neteyam x Fem!Avatar!Reader

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.

“Okay fair,” Lo’ak admitted. “Still, weird though.”

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 hooded. 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 in 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 Tim 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 real,” 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 nippy 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 slightly 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 pushes 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 babies — your babies — 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.

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 trying to claw their way out of me!” 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. “Don’t. 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 forehead 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 mother’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 his 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 undo above him. The scream ripped through you before you could catch it, breathless, broken and loud. It wasn’t a sound your 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 sparked 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 in 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, God- damned 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!

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[m1tsu-ki]

🙏I need to read this!!! Pls help

hey can someone help? it was a neteyam fic where reader was taller when they were kids and told him they gonna mate if hell be taller but the women in readers family were short and the men in neteyams family were tall so he ends up towering over her and i think he was also younger i dont remember

Can someone help? 🩵

[m1tsu-ki]

ANOTHER AMAZING ONE FROM MY BABE?!?! HECK YESSFHSDHD EATING THIS ALL UP

ACCCCCJKKK THE WAY NETEYAM DELUSIONS TSIREYA AS Y/N SO GODDAMN GOODDDDDDDDDDDAKDJSJDJSNDN

Love Of My Life (part one)

Paring: Neteyam x Fem!Avatar!Reader

Warnings: MDNI 18+, explicit language, smut, p in v, squirting, oral receiving (m&f), spanking, kissing, mentions of gunshots, blood, bleeding, death, exclusive relationships. Word Count:  28.3k

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. 

Part two (coming soon)

Blood soaked the stone beneath him.

Neteyam lay sprawled on the jagged rock, gasping. The sea sprayed cool waves splashing water against his skin. The bullet wound buried in his chest burned like fire, but the real pain was deeper, each breath becoming harder to take. He tried to listen to what his parents where saying, to Lo’ak and Tsireya, but their words fell on almost deaf ears. He could hear their voices mixed with the distant chaos; shouts, gunshots, even the churn of the ocean, but everything was fading behind the haze of the pain.

He turned his head looking around maybe if he looked at them, he could focus on what they were saying. Neteyam is not anything if not determined. He wanted to do whatever he can even though he was currently in the worst shape of his life.

“Neteyam…your sisters…hold on my son!” His mothers voice rang from what he could pick up.

“Hold on boy…help is coming” his father’s voice was vulnerable clearly having a rough time keeping it together.

Lo’ak did not even try to hide his sobs as he held onto neteyam tightly, whether his hands could reach, “please don’t leave me…. sorry…sorry…never run off again!” His sobs and shouts were the loudest.

Tsireya didn’t say much, quiet sobs by his feet as she gave his family space, but she was one of his best friends now, she cried, and she cared about him so much. He didn’t want her first experience with war and death to be her best friend dying.

Lo’ak didn’t want to leave, he didn’t want to go, but his sisters were in danger, and he knew where they were being held. Jake was adamant they get them back before more of his children were injured, before neteyam died so they could say goodbye. Tsireya, she didn’t not want to be alone running behind Lo’ak to keep her safe. Neytiri angrily bonded with her ikran taking off in the sky, her wild eyes looking back at him once before taking off.

They thought he had already gone to Eywa when his eyes shut, and his breathing leveled when he tried to calm his heart. They thought he was no longer with them. They did not see the way his fingers twitched as he tried to raise his hand, he wanted to call out to them; to tell them he had den gone yet. But the strength was not there

Now Neteyam was alone, they vanished, and he didn’t know what to make out of it. They left him? Would they make it back? Being the sweet boy he is neteyam prayed to Eywa they would make it back before it was his time. He prayed he could get to see his parents, siblings, before he was taken to be one with Eywa. He wanted to hold on.

Right on time, you gasp for air climbing out of the water coughing up whatever had almost made you give up and drown, you climb onto the rock and unclip your bag taking it off your shoulders and dropping it beside you, your hands push your air out of your face as you coughed on all fours. You didn’t even notice him; he wasn’t your concern. It was only after you caught your breath did you see him laying there, his seemingly lifeless body.

You don’t know him, clearly, he is na’vi, not metkayina so from the forest, a Sully? One of his boys. You move closer and neteyam hears your light, soft footsteps. They were too deliberate for an animal but too light for the heavy boots that soldiers wear. His eyes were closed; he couldn’t open them even if he wanted to. He felt all too exposed; he can’t move but he’s conscious about his surroundings like some kind of sleep paralysis in a nightmare.

The shoes make slow steps towards him getting closer and closer. It was a whisper of movement, strange. He wasn’t sure if it was an enemy, but he knows it’s not familiar. You crouch down next to him, you thought maybe you could make him out, but you can’t. Your hand slowly moves to his face touching his cheek softly, its still warm, hot even.

You look down at his body, the blood still oozed out of his wound. ‘Was he even dead?’ The thought ran across your mind.

Your eyes darted around to see if anyone was coming back before your fingers slowly moved to under his nose, after a brief moment you felt his warm exhale hit your fingers, ‘he’s alive’

“You’re still breathing...” Your hands fly to his chest closing to wound to prevent anymore blood loss, he must be so weak by now he was in so much pain he passed out, or was that from the blood loss? You weren’t sure. Either way you didn’t want to let him die. “Just hold on...” you raise your head again this time looking for the backpack you have discarded.

Quickly you let go of him and ran to get to backpack before running back, ripping it open you pull out a soaked t-shirt, ‘it’ll work.’ You make quick work of ringing out any water you could before you cover his wound to prevent more blood loss.

“Shit…” you mumble, you know you can’t save him here, you have to take him where you have supplies. Neteyam doesn’t know what to do, not that he can do anything. He hears a woman’s voice. He hears her trying to reassure him he won’t die, he felt her hands trying to stop the blood, so he wasn’t as alarmed as he was a few minutes ago, in fact he felt a bit comforted someone was trying to save him when everyone though there wasn’t anyone to save.

“Okay I know you probably can’t respond, maybe you can’t hear me at all and I’m talking to myself like an idiot, but I need to move you.” You waited a few seconds as if he was going to answer but he didn’t, you called out for your ikran that landed beside you in less than a minute. You look back down at his body, he was tall, muscular, definitely heavy. After a deep breath you clutched his arms over your head and lifted his deadweight on your back, settling him on your ikran you took off quickly in the direction of safety.

You were sure no one saw you considered most of the clan had retreated when the ship sunk and it was the middle of eclipse. You flew into the darkness at unmatched speed, holding onto him tightly so he wouldn’t accidentally fall off and actually die. Your adrenaline was pumping through you, the air felt cold against your soaking wet clothes, you couldn’t wait to get a minute to really breathe.

You made your way to the top of a cliff where just beyond the tree line was a house, it was so human like if someone saw the cabin its look almost like it was on earth, if it wasn’t for the unique Pandora trees and flowers. You landed swiftly and leaned neteyam on your ikran before jumping off.

You ran into the cabin going straight for the medically cabinet you kept stocked, and pulling out some gauzes, medical tape and surgical kit. You ran back to him and pulled him off the ikran. His body his the grassy with a loud thump, but you heard it. A small groan from his lips, it hit but he was there, alive, responsive.

“I am sorry, I know that must have hurt. But what I have to do will hurt even more” you speak softly to him almost comforting him before you turn on a small flashlight and held it between your teeth and rip the blood t-shirt off, when you lifted him earlier you saw the exit wound so no bullet in him is one less thing for you to take care off.

You open the gauze and wipe the blood holding it against the wound. His eyes were shut tightly and his brow line furrowed. You know he is about to feel what you're going to do. You use your elbow to hold the gauze in place as you thread the surgical needle. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. This is going to hurt, but only for a second.” you repeat yourself over and over as if he could acknowledge you in a muffled voice.

You took out a needle filled with lidocaine and slowly injecting it in certain parts around to wound to numb it, “I don’t even know if this works on na’vi” you mumble to yourself. Taking a deep breath, you started to sew up to the wound, slightly pulling his touch skin to close it up. Thankfully, you know an artery wasn’t damaged otherwise he would have bled out by now.

“Almost done..” you whisper before I rip the thread with my teeth and knot it. I sigh in relief as the bleeding in the front stops and I turn him over and do the same to the wound on his back. The last knot tight ended under your fingers the bleeding stopped, just barely.

You take a deep breath and lean back sitting next to his body on the floor spitting out the flashlight. You noticed his breathing was no longer quick and low but more normal, so you must have done something right. You look over the cliff at the eclipse and the way it reflected so beautifully on the open ocean.

Your heartbeat was stabilizing, you didn’t realize how much of an autopilot you were operating on until your arms started to feel tired, after all you did hold onto him very tightly. From what you could tell he was out like a light now, if he wasn’t before you weren’t sure. You had to move him inside. You look back at him, he was clearly a solider, he had the build. He was young, maybe your age? You weren’t sure. All your questions would be answered in due time, or maybe he’d kill you and run back to his family either way you can’t say you regret saving him.

You never much cared about how human affect the environment here on Pandora, your job was not to hunt down any na’vi who were trying to live in peace, no. Your job was the protect the people on the ship, it was your only job, to keep humans from dying on pandora. You knew what they were doing killing of the tulkun for the youth serum, but until the day you saw them kill the tulkun close to the clan. You didn’t care.

How could they be so unloving as to kill a member of someone’s family? They knew very well that was the relationship between the tulkun and the ocean na’vi. What if it were their family member? Their mother or baby? Only then will they decide these acts are vile. Maybe that is why you decided to save him.

You stand up and walk around his body until you were standing at him head, you drop to your knees sliding your arms under his to lift his upper body off the ground. You noticed how long he was before but now you must have underestimated before. He was at least a foot taller than you.

The first pull is the hardest his weight fights against you to bring him in. Your teeth gritted as you continued until you made it over the rocky ledge and inside the cabin through the back balcony glass doors. You didn’t drop him as you look upped the stairs where the bedrooms were, and you take a long heavy sigh.

Instead of suffering through every step you settling to laying him down on the black L shaped leather couch. Carefully you adjust his body putting his legs up on the couch one by one until you he was in a comfortable enough position you could let him rest. You started a fire before making sure to lock all windows and doors and drawing all the curtains. The only source of light was the first and the dim kitchen light behind the couch.

You got a damp cloth from the kitchen and decided to clean his wounds best you could in his position. You sank down leaning back on the base of the couch looking at him, his braids still had traces of blood, but he’d have to lose them out and wash it. Your eyes darted over the bandage, no fresh blood so you took a breath.

You were exhausted, you could just take a nap right there, but you were soaking wet and also covered in blood, so you decided to take a shower. It’s not like he would go anywhere.

The hot water was well needed, washing off all the blood and salty water was heavenly, the shower made the mirrors and glass door steam up, but you enjoyed it. You had recently run out of soap and had to make some from a purple flower your found growing wild outside, it was nice and no poisonous which you checked multiple times. It smells like nothing you’ve ever smelled before it was amazing, it brought you so much peace and tranquility you didn’t know a scent could do that.

The water hit you skin like a whisper at first, then a rush. You braced your hands against the wall, letting it pour over you, washing the blood away in slow red spirals down the drain. Your brain was fogged with thoughts of the man downstairs on your couch, this would have been the first time in your entire life you ever let a stranger in your home and that was before you were even an avatar.

You pad down the stairs now dressed in a tank top and pj shorts with your lace bra peaking out the top of the tank top, you weren’t worried about it you were sure he’d probably wake up tomorrow rather than tonight. You walk over to the kitchen and put the kettle on to heat up some water to make some tea.

Afterwards you sat on the other side of the couch where his feet were, your tea sat in the coffee table in front of you and take the throw blankets off your side of the couch using one to cover him from the waist down and the other to cover yourself. You couldn’t pinpoint why it was so important to you he stayed safe and warm, but you didn’t want to think too much into it.

Before you could get comfortable you noticed an object on his hip that seemed out of place under the blanket. Carefully you pulled it back and saw his knife. It was natural he’d have one, almost every na’vi you’d encountered had their own personalized knife, whether it was a specific carving or bead even the blade they were all special.

Slowly you take the entire holder out of his tweng and set it right there on the coffee table. So, when he did eventually wake up, he’ll see it’s still right there. It was a beautiful knife. Clearly one of the Omatikayan with the intricate carvings. The handle was wood covered with leather and waxed thread from a beanstalk palm, and the blade was the size of your entire forearm, it was made of some kind of bone, you could wrong, but it looked like a piece of bone from a large predator he carved into a sharpened tip and stained to have a darker brown color.

The handle also had a small bead attached to it, it was tied on using a thread, but it was beautiful, contrast to the dark scary color of the rest of the knife, the bead was a very pretty pink, it was a color that wasn’t all that common, at least not that you’ve seen. It was not perfectly round but shaped almost like a jagged flower. This part of his knife was definitely a gift, and it felt deeply personal.

“Wow…” you whispered to yourself. You wondered if he had made himself or if it was gifted to him by someone special, you were aware they did that sometimes, for close families and mates. You didn’t even know if he was mated, what if you casually kidnapped someone’s husband. They could be crying right now thinking he was dead, even though you did save his life.

You sat back in your stop your body facing him as you leaned against the couch and pulled the blanket over your shoulders. With a slow breath you shift into the corner of the couch and tuck your legs up, letting your body sink into the cushions. It was quiet now, just the rhythmic sound of the waves crashing against the cliff and his low breaths on the other side of the couch.

You let your eyes drift back to him once more, he’s so strong, strained. Yes he’s battered and braised, but still he is composed. Like he’s always been built to endure. You reach out distinctively to pull the blanket over his wore out feet properly tucking it in as if he was a child.

“You better now die on me now…or wake up and kill me cause I’ll be pissed”

The words were whispered before you could stop them.

Your head tilted back and hit the top of the couch before you shut your eyes, you don’t know when you fell asleep. One minute you were looking at him with half lidded eyes and the next your eyes were closed but you still saw him laying in front of you.

The fire had long since dimmed, its light reduced to a soft amber glow that flicker against the walls. Outside, the world had quieted, only distant crashes of waves and the whisper of wind through the trees remained.

You were curled up on the other end of the couch, blanket was tangled in your legs and your head reacted against the cool cushion, exhaustedly asleep. Moonlight washed through the windows, pale and silvery, pooling across the floor up the side of Neteyam’s face through the slit in the curtain.

His fingers twitched.

Then again, but more deliberately this time. A shallow inhale rattled through his chest, strained and dry. He winced as he tried to move slightly, his brow tightening as his senses crawled back one by one to him. The stiffness in his limbs and ache in his chest, the softness of the blanket that was pulled over his abdomen.

And the scent.

Not the salty waters at the metkayina clan he became so accustomed too, not the scent of blood that lingered in the battles field.

Something warm, clean, unfamiliar but also familiar in a way he couldn’t place.

His eyes slowly opened, slits at first. They felt grainy, like sand. His eyes adjusted to the low lighting of the room, the wooden ceilings, and wooden walls. A soft rhythmic sound, ‘waves?’ a cliffside?

It definitely wasn’t home.

He moved slights and pain bloomed in his chest, it was bound, hints of blood that wasn’t cleaned properly against his skin felt dry.

Then he saw you. A girl, slumped at the bend of the couch wrapped loosely in a blanket, chest rising and falling slowly. You weren’t human, he hinted the extra finger you had. You were an avatar. Your breathing was peaceful, unbothered, but he could almost see the exhaustion.

Neteyam stared for a while, a long moment. His heart thumbed weakly against bruised ribs, the pain was real, the exhaustion was deeper, but he wasn’t dead.

And he just knew that was because of you.

Then you stirred.

By a noise. Not loud, just a soft scrape, shift of weight against the leather. Your eyes open slowly before the rest of your body moves. You know there’s a chance this man will risk his life again just to kill you, being an unfamiliar avatar and all.

Your eyes darted around until you saw him shifting in the darkness, with a breath you sat up, “you’re awake” your voice comes out soft.

His body shifts, his face drawn tight in pain that he tried to mask. But his eyes were open, locked directly on you. You shift to stand up reaching for the bottle of water that was on the coffee table.

You barely got to move when he snatched his knife off the table and held it up. Given his very injured situation you were impressed he was able to act so quickly, you were right, he is a warrior.

“Woah, wait” you say gently, hands raised.

His grip was trembling from the lose of blood, you were sure. “Who the hell are you?” He hissed, “why did you bring me where?”

“You were dying- shot” you point to his chest, “I stopped the bleeding, stitched you up” your voice was low.

Distrust etched in ever tense line in his body, “you’re with the RDA” he hissed once more, “your kind is the reason this happened! The reason I was shot!” His eyes narrowed on you.

“I’m not them- I didn’t shoot yo-”

“Where am I?” He asked hoarsely.

“Safe, you’re safe” you replied.

“That’s not what I asked”

A moment of silence cranked between you. You sat up slowly not moving from your side of the couch.

“Stay back!” He hissed

“I’m not moving” you say to reassure him, but you aren’t sure how much it helped.

You look down at his bandage before looking back at him face making sure he didn’t accidentally rip them.

“What is this place?” He asked you, his voice cracked.

“This is my…home, I guess. The RDA base is...far- very far from here so you don’t have to worry. It was close to where the ship went down so I brought you here to stop the bleeding and stitch it up.” You explain hoping to help him get answers.

“I know you are distrustful, and this is a weird situation but I’m not trying to hurt you” your tone was soft.

“Then why did you bring me here?!” His voice cracked again.

“I wouldn’t have been allowed into the clan even if I were to bring you back. I would have been killing on the spot. I know that you ran with your family from the forest. That’s the whole reason Quaritch commandeered the ship in the first place. I brought you here cause know one knows about this cabin, you can…heal”

His grip on the knife faltered slightly but he didn’t drop it. “I see how this could be…unbelievable. But I promise I’m not here to hurt you, or anyone. That was never my intention when I joined the RDA, and I.. have held at least that part of my morals up.”

“You flew me here, I remember on your ikran, how did you get it?” He asked his voice was calmer this time but not as calm as he should be healing from a gunshot wound.

“I have been on Pandora for years; at a certain point we need a way to get around that would waste gas. Since I work out in the ocean it’s easier to fly on an ikran than a helicopter every time we needed something from shore. It was a requirement by command that some of the avatars bonded with one.” I explain truthfully.

His eyes flicker over your body, the tank top you wore with your bra still peaking out, his eyes lingers but he didn’t react, clearly you were comfortable here. And alone because humans don’t dress like this in front of people. At least that much he knew.

“You don’t know me” he bit out, “why risk it?”

“I…” you stopped to think, you harden actually thought about it. “You were alive when I…climbed onto that rock I couldn’t just let you die” you replied with a small shake of your head implying you were being genuine.

He didn’t say anything but shifted again barely, wincing in pains

“Wait- you will tear your stitches can you just lay back down? And relax?” You raise your hands hoping he’d stay down before you stand up and run to the kitchen to get a glass of water. You quickly pour it and hopped back to him.

He immediately backed away when you stepped closer than you were before, “it’s just water I’m sure your throat hurts it’ll help” you reassured him softly, but he was still on edge.

“How do I know you didn’t poison it?”

“Valid question” you reply before taking a sip, “I’m not going to…. poison myself” You steps closer, and he let you. You slowly bring the glass up to his lips and hold it for him to sip the water, “okay good, we’re getting somewhere now” you smile softly as he drank the water greedily.

“Do you want more?” You ask as he finished the glass, and he shook his head no.

He finally put down the knife when you put the glass down on the coffee table and sat next to it, “can I check the stitches?” You asked softly

He didn’t say anything just leaned back and nodded, “what is your name?” You asked softly, “I figured out that you are one of Jake Sully’s children, but my job was not to hunt your family so I.. do not know much many children he has or your names so?”

He took a beat not saying anything only look at your face as you lifted the bandage carefully to check his stitches, “Neteyam. I am the oldest of four. Why are you helping me again?” He asked as he screws his face.

Neteyam. The name suited him, it was strong, clipped, almost regal in a way.

“I just didn’t want to let you die Neteyam. And it is nice to meet you; my name is Y/n” you said with small smile which he just nodded to.

“The oldest huh?” You echoed as you fixed the bandage and let go of it. “That explains the attitude.”

He huffs softly. Not quite a laugh but close.

His chin shifts slightly, “what is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing it just makes sense” you smirk lightly.

He doesn’t answer at first you can feel the stare and you look right back at him, direct eye contact.

“I don’t trust you” he mutters still looking at you.

Softly you replied, “I didn’t ask you too”

“I’m not staying here”

His voice is rough, determined as he swings his legs off the couch and sit up. His teeth gritted as he pushed himself upright. Quickly you caught his elbow and arm to stabilize him.

“Don’t be stupid, your rip your stitches” you said firmly.

“Better than being a captive” he shoots back.

He stands barely, swaying on his feet. One of his hands actually grabbed yours to help stabilize himself since you raised with him. You catch his shoulder before his knees could buckle.

“You’re not a captive” you say through gritted teeth, “and your heavy you know”

“No? Then why am I still breathing?”

You hold him steady in front of you and as predicted he was at least a foot taller than you, so you had to look up at him. His breathing was shallow.

“Because I didn’t let you die. How much times will we need to go through this before you hear me?” You say quietly.

There’s a long beat before he lets you guide him back to sit with a grunt.

“I need to clean off this blood” he gestures to the dried blood you didn’t get to properly clean.

“Ok, but you can’t bath yet, you need to keep the wound dry for the next day or two before you can wet the area”

He cuts your off with a glare, “Then how am I meant to clean myself? I’m not sitting here covered in blood like some helpless thing”

You nod slowly, “you're not, but right now you’re not exactly invincible”

He doesn’t say anything just settles back with a frustrated hiss. The weight of everything that happened pressed on him all at once, the wound, the blood, your presence. He hated this.

“You cannot take a real bath yet, but you can take a sponge bath. I’ll just bring the bowl with warm water and a sponge. It’ll help” you suggest softly.

“I don’t need-” he started flatly before you cut him off.

“You don’t have to let me do it. I’ll just bring it for you. You’ll clean what you can reach”

He stares at you for a beat too long, his expression never gave away any feeling he had about you. Then finally, he nodded slightly, “fine” he said begrudgingly.

Without another word you move to the kitchen to get a bowl of hot water and a clean sponge. Behind you his shoulders relaxed just a bit, enough to show he was opening up to the idea of letting you help him settle, even if he won’t admit it yet.

You return with the bowl filled with water and a clean cloth, “I’ll be right back” you put it in the coffee table and run upstairs for a towel for him to dry off with after.

You run back down the stairs, and he was already wiping the blood off his body with the cloth, “you can dry off the water with this after” I say softly and drop the towel next to him. The steam from the water curls softly in the cool air.

Neteyam shifts when he sees you sit down by the bend of the couch; he eyed you wearily. “Do you always watch your patients so closely?”

“You’re not my patient. Just a guy who was casually dying on what I’m sure what a hard, uncomfortable rock” a smirk tugs the corner of your lips.

“Feels like I’m under a microscope” he grunted faintly, as he shifts positions slightly to clean as much of himself as he can.

“Don’t flatter yourself” you say teasingly before you turn away to give him som privacy.

That draws a low chuckle, if was unexpected but real. When you glance over half of his was clean, slick from the water, shining in the dim cabin light. He catches your eye but doesn’t look away.

His gaze isn’t soft, it’s sharp, searching. As if he’s looking for a reason in your expression that’ll tell him whether or not he should trust you.

“What are you looking for?” He asked you in a deep voice.

You blink surprised by the question, “I wasn’t….looking for anything”

He huffs softly, almost a scoff, “everyone’s always looking for something”

“Then maybe I’m not everyone” you say steadily.

His eyes narrowed slightly, not in anger but studying, testing.

“That’s what worries me”

You lean back against the couch watching him without flinching, “I didn’t drag you away from the edge of death to hurt you now.”

“Doesn’t mean you won’t” he says flatly.

You nod softly accepting his truth, “then keep your knife close, and don’t rip your stitches and bleed on my couch” I smirk at him.

His lip twitches barely, and for the first time the tension shifts, or doesn’t fade just changes shape.

“Do you need help now? I can clean up the wound on your back” you offer softly.

You can tell he doesn’t want to say yes but there is no way he can reach without hurting himself, so he nods holding the cloth out in your direction.

You take it into your hand and walk around the couch, “lean up a bit?” You press your hand softly on his shoulder pushing him forward as you make quick and gentle work cleaning up the dry blood from his back.

“Your hair has blood in it too, when you can bath properly you should loosen your braids out and wash it” you say softly.

“I will” he grunted.

After I was finished, I let him lean back against the couch once more, “there you should feel a bit cleaner now”

You move to start another fire considering it gets quite cold where the cabin was. The fire crackled softly in the hearth. You went to the kitchen and returned with a small bowl of broth and a cup of warm tea. Neteyam still sitting up on the couch with the blanket now dropped over his shoulders watches you with weary eyes. You put the bowl down him front him wordlessly, settling beside him again.

“Figured you could use something warm” you say softly.

He hesitates before he picks it up with a grunt of thanks. He brings the bowl up to his lips and sips the hot broth, completely ignoring the spoon you put down next to the bowl for him to use. His ears perk up and his tail raises and hits the couch with a small thump.

He masks his reaction once more even though you already caught it and was slightly smiling at the fact he liked it. “Not bad…for a sky person”

“Careful, that almost sounded like a compliment” you smirk at him.

A faint twitch of a smile tugs at his lips but it fades quickly. He shifts; his eyes fixed on the fire a few feet in front of him, “why are you out here alone?”

You thought for a second, “it wasn’t really the plan, just ended up this way.” You look around the cabin, taking in the decor and feeling of the space.

Silence stretches before he says, “you’re still with the RDA”

That wasn’t a question. You nod slowly, “I…work for the RDA. Doesn’t mean I agree with everything they do. But it’s not my decision to make” I shrug softly.

“That’s easy to say when you're not the one being hunted.”

The edge in his voice makes you pause before you nod again, he was right, “don’t worry, this place is a secret, only two people on this moon ever knew about it. One of them is dead and the other is..me. So, I can say I’m sure your safe. And now well, you know about it.”

He looks at you sharply, surprised by your lack of defense. For a moment, neither of you say anything. Then, he shifts slightly closer, eyes flickering over your features, your hands, your eyes, mouth now and then when he thinks your not looking but you notice.

“You speak English very well” you say breaking the silence tilting your head slightly.

His expression doesn’t change much, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes, pride?

“My parents taught me. I pay attention” he replied quietly.

He paused then adds with a sharper edge, “why? Are your surprised a savage can speak your mother tongue?”

His words weren’t angry, but they were not soft either. He looked at you as if he was testing you.

“You are no savage, that much I’m sure off” you say softly to him, “but I guess I am surprised, I wouldn’t expect your parents to want you to know anything from the sky people.”

Neteyam tilted his head slightly, his gaze was sharp.

“My father was one of the sky people. The clan trust and follows him.” He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Learning the language wasn’t about wanting, it was about understand the enemy.” He clarified with pride.

“That’s smart” you nod with understanding, “you can’t beat someone if you don’t understand them”

Neteyam doesn’t smile but his eyes stayed locked in yours, unreadable, “do not mistake understanding for trust, I’ve seen what your people are capable of. I will not forget”

“You shouldn’t, your people had suffered a great deal and I’m sorry, even though I know my apologies for it don’t mean anything. It was…avoidable” you say softly.

He stares for another long moment, taking in what you said before he responds.

“You are right it doesn’t mean anything, doesn’t change anything” he shifts slight putting down the now empty bowl, “I’m still here injured because of people like you.”

“I agree my people did this, but can we also agree I’ve done nothing but help you since I’ve…saw you? Maybe all humans aren’t…that bad?” You say almost hopefully as if one conversation could change his perspective on you. Maybe he’d stop grouping you with those who want to hurt them, those who murder.

He took another second before answering, he clearly didn’t want got admit it just like he didn’t want to trust you, “you’re right, you did help me. You could have let me die but you didn’t”

“I can’t say I like the position I’m in now however, unfamiliar place, unfamiliar enemy which is very contradictory considering it was the enemy who saved my life. I do not want to feel like I owe you something for that”

Neteyam was nothing if he wasn’t head strong, but you did understand where he was coming from.

“You don’t owe me anything, I don’t want anything from you. You don’t trust me, I can feel it, in the way you look at me like you’re waiting for me to prove your distrust right”

You exhale before glancing down at your blue hands, it was a lovely shade, but it definitely wasn’t human. Your gaze shift to your tail, something so unnatural to you before you got used to this new body.

“I am like the man who is hunting your father. I’m sure you’ve seen him, maybe you’ve even fought him. This body, this life. It is permanent” you start softly. “I was so good at fighting as a human than the RDA just chose me to be…this.” You gesture to your body

“And that means I live here and will die on Pandora one day and become apart of this moon” you look back to him. “I wouldn’t survive very long if all I did was flight your people, so I’m just trying to live peacefully too”

Neteyam’s eyes stay on yours, you see the flicker of uncertainty shift in them. “You speak like you want to understand what it is like to be na’vi”

He was clearly skeptical as he continued, “many have come and said the same, words are easy, they said they wanted to learn, to be peaceful. But they lied and they invaded and took what they wanted disturbing the balance that Eywa has given us. No patience, no understanding, no care for what they were destroying.”

Your ears pinned down not knowing what to say, it honestly hadn’t hit you how disruptive humans had been for the na’vi. You never had all that much interaction with them simply because that wasn’t your job. You were about to say something, but he beat you too it.

“But you saved my life and gave me food and water, helped me cleaned my wounds. It was more than I was expecting from a sky person” he added in a softer tone.

The night after that passed. You didn’t want to leave him alone just in case his wound started to bleed again so you stayed sleeping on the smaller side of the couch leaving him on the side he was on. It didn’t take either of you long to fall asleep again since you both were extremely exhausted.

You stir, eyes adjusting to the light streaming in from the gaps in the curtains, you were t sure what time it was, but the sun was high in the sky. The ocean murmured waves crashing against the cliff, distant and soft.

Neteyam was already awake sitting up like he was the night before. He was watching you.

“You didn’t move” his voice was quiet, deep with sleep.

You turn to face him stretching slightly with the blanket still pulled to your neck, “didn’t have to, it’s my couch” you replied softly

He glances around, “right” he says as he leans his head again against the couch.

“How are you feeling?” You ask him tiredly, “any better than yesterday?”

“Considering I just got shot, I’d say I’m doing fantastic” he replies with sass.

“Don’t sass me bro.” You say as you raise your hand up making a stop gesture before you push the blanket off and stand-up walking over to him.

Neteyam watches you, his body tensing slightly as you step closer, “what are you doing?”

“Well. I was going to check your wound is that okay?” You yawn.

He nodded and didn’t move as you sat on the coffee table in front of him. Your body didn’t touch his, but you still felt the heat it omitted before you pull back the gauze and check the wound, “no sign of infection that’s good.”

“Na’vi are hard to kill” Neteyam says dryly. You look up and his rubbing your lips together to hold in a laugh.

“I’ve noticed.” You smile. “Are you in a lot of pain?” You huff with a smile.

“No, the gaping hole through my chest feels amazing” he exaggerated, “I might go for a jog.”

You snort before you could hold it back turning your mouth to hit your right shoulder in and effort to stop yourself from filling laughing.

“I’m glad your sarcasm is still in tack.” You smile, “but seriously do it hurt a lot?”

He paused for a minute, “it hurts yes, but I can breathe better than I could yesterday” he answers quietly.

“I have and antibiotic cream, it’ll help a bit with the pain, and prevent infection. I’ll change your bandages too. But overall, you are healing faster than I expected”

I get up and walk over to the medical supply cabinet and take out a couple fresh bandages and the antibiotic cream.

I walk back over to him and clean up around the wound before I apply the cream and cover it with the new bandages.

“What can I say I’m impressive even half-dead. Thought I’d be more dramatic about it?” Neteyam tilted his head with a crooked grin.

You shake your head with a smile. “You were dramatic, you bled on my couch”

“This is the first time I got shot, I had to make an entrance” he shrugged softly as you finished changing his bandages. He’s ears flicker slightly when he got a laugh out of you, it felt strange to him, was he proud? He’d made many women laugh in the past it wasn’t something he found difficult, but this situation was different. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to feel about it.

You brought over a glass of water for him which he took sipping slowly until he finished while you walked back to the kitchen to start making breakfast. Neteyam couldn’t see you now, since the couch faced away from the kitchen but towards the tv and fireplace that had long burned out.

“Why is it so dark in here?” He asked over his shoulder noting all the closed curtains, no natural light coming into the room.

“Uh well that’s cause the blinds are closed, it’s still pretty early.” You say as you begin to dig around for something Neteyam might eat, you settle on some meat you had frozen from the last time RDA went hunting and eggs with some fruit.

“It feels like a cave” he adjusted himself to sit more comfortably on the couch looking around the room like he’s been doing since you brought him there.

You shrugged, “you want sun? I’ll open the blinds. Just don’t hips at it.”

A soft grunt passed his lips, was it amusement? Annoyance? Hard to say. “I’m not a wild animal.”

You arch a brow, even though you knew he couldn’t see you while you cracked the egg into the pan, “could’ve fooled me, the way you growled at me last night” you blow raspberries into the air in exaggeration.

He didn’t answer right away, then muttered, “still deciding if you’re prey.”

You glance over your shoulder at the back of his head before turning back, “let me know before breakfast, yeah? I’d rather not waste eggs.”

He shifted until he had turned enough to see you in the kitchen leaning against the side of the couch instead, adjusting the blanket over his lap se the smell of sizzling food drifted from the small kitchen space.

“You always cook with the lights off?” He called out, voice dry. “Or is this just part of the ambiance, ‘half dead guest special?”

You glance back at him with a smirk, “maybe I like a little mystery while I make breakfast”

He raised a brow, “Mystery? Smells like you’re trying to resurrect me with a frying pan and vibes.”

You snorted, “well, it’s workin, isn’t it?”

He reclined a little deeper into the couch, eyes tracking you as you move around the kitchen, “barely, is this is your version of hospitality, remind me not to get shot again.”

“Ungrateful” you muttered softly but you know he heard.

I put two plates down on the kitchen table with food on it, untie your apron and put it on the kitchen counter before walking over to the couch and standing next to him. “Come on, you’re not eating on my couch.”

He looked up at you clearly unimpressed. “What, you don’t do room service out here in the middle of nowhere?”

You cross your arms, “you’re lucky I don’t drag you.

He huffed a short laugh but didn’t move, “tempting. But if I get hurt again, that’s on you.”

You help out your hand, firm but patient, “I stitched you up, fed you, and let you sass me from my own couch. Don’t make me add dragging you to the table to the list.”

Neteyam groaned. More for show than pain, “I got shot in the chest not the legs” he muttered stubbornly.

“Yeah, and I’d rather not watch you fall on your face trying to prove yourself” you shot back.

He sighed through his nose and hold onto you to help him stand up. He wrapped his heavy large arm over your shoulder and you wrap an arm around his slim waist. Being careful not to let him fall. His body was warm, solid, but tense under your touch.

As he stood, he hissed slightly but didn’t complain. “Don’t get any ideas. I’m letting your help me because I’m being polite.”

You smirked. “Wow. So this is you being polite?”

His lip twitched but he didn’t answer, just leaned a little more of his weight into you as you walked.

You both take it once step at a time until you made it to the kitchen table, you switched on the warm yellow light ver the table to illuminate the space after he sat down, then you sat down in the chair next to him at the touch table. He lets out a white breath as he settled in, then looked at the food and raise a brow.

In front him was grilled yerik meat, sliced fruit and some fried eggs, all fresh and local, but not cooked the way he was used to.

Neteyam stared at it, then gave you a look. “What did you do to the poor yerik? Burn it into submission?”

You arch your brow, “it’s grilled. It’s called flavor.”

He picked up a piece with his fingers, inspecting it like it had wronged him, “flavor? My people season with wild herbs. This smells like smoke and… attitude.”

You smirked sarcastically. “Your welcome by the way. I did just slave over that stove for you.”

He bit into it an paused. Then, with a mouthful, mumbled, “could’ve let me die with dignity and decent cooking.”

You roll your eyes with a smile, “you’re lucky your cute-”

You stopped staring down at your food with the fork in your hand and wide eyes, realizing what you let slip out, but it was too late.

Neteyam raised a brow, grinning like he had just won something. “Lucky I’m what?”

You roll your eyes, “nothing” you say casually.

“Oh no, please,” he leaned forward, still chewing, “tell me again how lucky I am because I’m cute.”

You mumbled, “I said no such thing.”

He smirked, pointing his fork that he clearly wasn’t using at you, “to late. I’m wounded and cute. Deadly combination.”

You cross your arms and leans back in your chair, “you’re wounded, picky, and have the ego of a war chief. Cute isn’t a word I’d use.”

Neteyam grinned, unfazed. “Ah, so, now I’m a war chief. First cute, now powerful. Keep going, I, enjoying this.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Don’t flatter yourself, forest prince. I’ve seen yerik with better manners.”

He let out a mock gasp, clutching his chest dramatically, careful to avoid the bandage. “You wound me again. Truly your hospitality knows no bounds.”

He took a bite of the eggs, nodding in exaggerated approval, “could use a little salt. But I’ll survive. Barely. Thanks to your tender, smocking-hot…grill.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You were about to say something else.”

He smirked, licking his fingers, “was I? You’re imagining things, must be that flustered energy coming off you.”

You grab a napkin and tossed it at his face, “eat your food before I decide you’re strong enough to cook your own damn breakfast tomorrow”

He caught the napkin with ease chuckling. “So violent for someone so nurturing, you sure you’re not falling for me?”

You lean forward slightly, “remember last night when you threatened to stab me? Why would I be falling for you? And even if I did, you’d be the last to know”

Neteyam tilted his head, eyes gleaming with challenges. “We’ll see about that.”

Once breakfast was finished and you’d both finished eating, you stood up taking the dishes to the sink to start cleaning up. Neteyam leaned back in his chair, watching you move around the kitchen with an unreadable expression.

“You always take care of strangers like this?” He asked, voice a little quieter now, less teasing.

You gave him a glance over your shoulder, “only ones who bleed on my grass, and my floors and my couch” you sigh.

He snorted, shaking his head, then slowly he stood, clearly regaining his strength. It was amazing how quickly he was starting to recover from his near death experience. You wondered if all the na’vi are this vigilant or if he was just some kind of invincible warrior.

“Well, guess I’m special huh?”

“Let’s not go so far,” you turn to watch him slowly walk up to you with a smirk, only looking away when he was holding onto the counter beside you.

He came over, still cautious with his movements, and put his weight on his stronger arm against the counter. His shoulder slight bumped yours. “And here I thought we were bonding over bad eggs and near-death experiences”

You turned off the water and whipped your hands on a hand towel, “first of all, my eggs are fucking good. And we’ll see how you feel once you me helped clean up.”

He raised his brow bone. “You want me to clean? With a bullet hole in my chest?”

“You’ve got one good arm,” you said sweetly, handing him the towel.

He took it with exaggerated effort and put it down on the counter next to him, “cruel woman, you mean the arm holding me up from falling right now?”

“Survivors don’t get lazy” you replied before nudging him with your elbow.

The water poured over your head in a steady stream, steam curling around your shoulders as you pressed your hands to the cool tile wall. You had come in here to clear your head to wash off the lingering tension, the ache from sleep, and that buzz you couldn’t quite explain.

But it wasn’t working.

It was him.

Neteyam.

He hadn’t done a thing that morning. Hadn’t lifted a finger to help with breakfast, just stayed on the couch, arms crossed behind his head, half-lidded eyes watching the ceiling like he was bored out of his mind.

But you’d felt him watching you. Every time you turned your back. Every time you bent over or shifted. You could feel his gaze trailing along your spine like a hand that never touched. And when he did speak, his voice it wasn’t fair.

Deep. Smooth. Rich like the forest after rain.

And the way he moved…

You tilted your head back, letting the hot water roll down your chest. You didn’t mean to think about him, didn’t mean to notice, but the memory crept in anyway. The way his muscles flexed when he shifted on the couch, chest bandaged but firm and defined beneath it. The long lines of his legs, the stripes along his skin, the faint shimmer that came from the damp heat of the room the night before.

He looked powerful. And wild. And wounded.

And too damn beautiful to be real.

Your hand moved over your stomach absentmindedly, as if trying to soothe the way it fluttered. His face was still sharp in your mind those eyes, so full of suspicion, but never dull. They were intense. Too intense. Looking at you like you were a threat, like you were a puzzle, like maybe just maybe you were something else entirely.

intense. Too intense. Looking at you like you were a threat, like you were a puzzle, like maybe just maybe you were something else entirely.

You caught yourself.

Fingers tightened on the tile. “Get a grip,” you whispered, letting the water pelt down harder, trying to drown the thoughts before they spiraled any further.

You weren’t supposed to feel anything about him. He was a wounded Na’vi. You were a human permanently stuck in your avatar. And this wasn’t safe for either of you.

But still…

Your mind slipped again to the low rumble of his laugh, the accidental flash of a smile when he’d said something cocky the night before. The way his ears twitched when he heard a bird outside. The curve of his collarbone where the bandage didn’t reach.

You exhaled sharply and turned the water to cold.

It didn’t help it’s only been one day, was it even possible to be so infatuated with someone so quickly. You almost started to wonder what he thought about you, but quickly you turned off the shower and got out before you could. That wouldn’t help you.

The days that followed passed in a strange quite rhythm, like a clam between storms. The atmosphere had started to shift. The first few days remained mostly on the couch downstairs, watchful, cautious, sharp-tongued. But he was healing much faster than you had predicted, the resilience of his na’vi physiology steadily outpacing your human expectations. The deep bruising had faded, the wound closing up quickly but not quite done yet, and by the forth day, he could walk without leaning in you to heavily.

It didn’t stop him from making a show of his independence thought. He still tossed sass like it was a defense mechanism. When you tired to help him, he’d mutter sarcastic little jabs, never cruel, just enough to challenge you. “I’m fine” he’d say with a dry smirk, wincing slightly as he tested his own limits. “I didn’t get hit by a Tobruk, jus a little bullet.” You were leaning to match his tone, finding his attitude oddly endearing. His wit had a heat to it that made the air feel thicker whenever he looked at you too long.

He had taken to calling you “princess,” the word always dripping with a kind of teasing bite the made your brow twitch and your stomach flutter all at once. “Whatever you say princess,” he’d say whenever you told him to stop overdoing it or remind him to drink water. He knew exactly how it landed, half mocking, half flirtation, and the glint in his eyes afterward said he enjoyed pushing your buttons. You pretended to be annoyed, but a part of you didn’t mind. Not one bit.

By the fifth night he moved upstairs choosing the spare room beside yours. You offered it out of practicality, but when you heard him quietly testing the floorboards and settling into the room, your realized how aware you were of his presence, just on the other side of the wall, the door between your rooms stayed closed but it might as well have been paper. It was like he couldn’t sleep, he was restless in the room. It was off putting considering when you both slept on the couch, he slept like a log. The entire night would go off without a hitch he slept peacefully. When you’d awake in the night hearing noises outside he didn’t even flinch.

Every creek, every low sigh through the walls, every time he got up and strolled into your room to use the master bathroom quietly padding across the room, it made your skin prickle.

You didn’t know why he used your bathroom. Even after he was strong enough to manage the one in the hallway. You told yourself it was cleaner and better stocked, but the first time you found a fresh towel slightly damp on the rack after he’d finished and the mirror and shower glass fogged up, you had to turn away to cool your thoughts.

That morning, you’d tried to think about besides him while your showered, but the ghost of his voice, low, rough and accented, it stayed with you. It was the way he said your name. The way his golden eyes held your gaze a beat too long sometimes. The way his body looked in the borrowed avatar clothing you had stored away in a box in an used spare room, how they hugged his lean farm just a little too perfectly, especially when damp from a shower or stuck to his back with sweat from walking the hill path behind the cabin to gain his strength.

You never meant to notice, but it happened anyways. The ripple of his stomach when he stretched, sometimes when it pecked out from under the t-shirt he wore. The way his hair was now loose from braids when he had washed it, how it looked falling down his shoulder since he didn’t bother to braid them again yet. The strength in his arms when he lifted a bracket of fruit, the sound of him cleaning his throat or chuckling to himself in the other room, it was all in your head now. Looped on repeat.

You really tried not to think about him in those clothes, the meaning behind them almost set your skin on fire but you had nothing else to give me. It didn’t hit you right away, only the night he sat on the couch some old tv show idly playing in front of your both. He noticed your shift in demeanor but he decided now wasn’t the time to question it.

By day, he explored small distances, pushing his limits while pretending he wasn’t. You caught him standing out by the cliff more than once, just staring at the horizon, lost in thought. It surprised you when you saw your fired ikran sitting next to him like he had no care in the world, it wasn’t something he did often with people.

‘He must be thinking about his family’ you thought to yourself.

Arms wrapped around yourself you walked out and sat on the other side of him, “are you alright?”

He seemed to have not even noticed your steps towards him until you say down and he gave you a glance, “yea, just thinking about my family.”

You didn’t say anything, you weren’t sure what to say. So you stayed quiet. You watched pat your ikran on the head slightly, “he likes you” you say softly. “His name is Leo.”

“He is beautiful, his patterns is very unique almost like flowers”

“I know he’s my babe he’s gorgeous” I smile. “What about yours?”

“Her name is Seze, after my mothers first sprit sister, I heard the stories and they just match, the name, the colors. She is strong.”

“Like her sprit brother?”

He turned his head to look at you and you looked back at him, “you are very strong too” I look down at his chest before my eyes dart back up to his.

“Not like her.”

“Maybe not, but it is a fact Neteyam” you say confidently.

Sometimes he’d sit in the sunlight filtering through the window, sharpening the blade of the same knife you found on his hip on the first day you met him, using a rock he decided to casually bring inside and left it on the floor in one specific spot for this reason only. It was not a multipurpose rock and you were not allowed to touch it. You tired throwing it back outside but he just brought it back in.

So you let him, it gave him peace. But occasionally, he’d catch you looking and a faint smirk would lift the corner of his lips, “didn’t think the sky people taught staring as a skill” he once said. You snapped back with, “only when the view’s worth it” before realizing how flirtatious it sounded. He didn’t comment just raised his brow bone and looked amused.

By night the two of you developed a routine, you’d make simple meals from what you could forgave from the garden outside, any kind of fresh fruit or vegetable along with whatever your already had in the kitchen or fridge, local meat, roots, tart fruits that stained your fingers purple, and he’d tease your cooking even as he cleared his plated. One night, you asked if he wanted to help and he responded, “you’ve got the knife skills and I’ve got the survival instinct. Let’s not blur the line just yet.” You laughed. So did he. A real one, short and genuine.

Still the boundary was clear. He didn’t trust easily, and you didn’t push him. But there was an undercurrent, a quiet shift in energy each time you passed each other in the hallways or stood too close in the kitchen. You felt it in the subtle way he watched your when he thought you didn’t notice, or in the way his voice softened ever so slightly when you two talked late into the night. You didn’t touch him, not really. Not unless you were redressing his wounds or moments when your hand brushed, when you helped him steady himself, his fingers lingered in your arm just a second longer that necessary.

You didn’t want to say what any of that meant since you didn’t know yourself, not yet. But it was something. Something you were starting to feel under your skin like a pulse.

It’s been almost two weeks now, Neteyam has healed amazingly quick, his skin had returned back to its normal color where he had bruising, anywhere he had gonna scraps had healed up and mostly disappeared.

This afternoon, the sun had just dipped low enough to turn the ocean gold, you were both sitting on the porch. You in a big weaved cushioned chair and him leaning on the raining like he belonged there.

“You said something the first night” he said, breaking the quiet, his voice was thoughtful, not playful, or teasing. Just real.

You turned towards him, “oh? I say a lot of things.”

He glanced at you, one side of his mouth twitching, “you said you didn’t plan to here here alone”

You stilled. The words you’d almost forgotten came back in full. You hadn’t meant to get into detail, you didn’t even thing he remembered anything from that night. He was in his worst condition, it surprised you.

“I didn’t,” you admitted after a pause. “Not originally.”

“But you do,” he said simply.

You rub your lips together and gave a slow nod, eyes drifting back towards the horizon, “yeah. I do.”

It was quiet for a few seconds before he said, softly, “Why?”

The ocean beyond the cliffs was calm, bathed in soft shades of blue and silver under the planet above. You wrapped your hands around your mug, the warmth grounding you as you look back at him and decided to tell him the truth. You don’t know why you felt like you could trust him, you weren’t even sure he trusted you yet.

“I didn’t build this place to be alone,” you said slowly, your voice barely audible.

Your head tilted down to look at your mug. Neteyam glanced at you, his expression was unreadable, but you didn’t look back yet. Your eyes stayed down, locked on the steam coming from the mug, like it held the courage you needed.

“I came here with someone,” you continued. “My boyfriend. We were both with the RDA both from the navy on earth, so we both got avatars. We were in different squads. He was on land and I was stationed in the ocean.” You sniffle softly from the cold. “We talked about a future here, once the politics and field work was over. The cabin was going to be home. Our home, forever.”

Your swallow, your throat tight. The words hurt, not because they were hard to say but because they still felt so real, like they’d only just slipped through your fingers.

“Before they transfer your consciousness into your avatar permanently, you go through a series of test using the link machine.” You explain. “He died a year ago, one minute he was next to me, the next he was gone. Something with his link upload they said it didn’t…work the way it was supposed to, I still don’t know why. . No warning, no goodbye, I saw his avatar laying on the cot like a shell the next morning and that was it.”

Neteyam’s face tensed, and this time you did glance at him, his eyes met yours, wide with the kind of pain only someone who’s lost can recognize.

“I stayed,” you went on, a crack sneaking into your voice. “Everyone thought I was crazy for not going back to earth. But I couldn’t, we built this place. Every beam, every stone, I wasn’t ready to let go of it, or him and he uh…he’s buried in pandora, I’m not gonna just, leave him here.”

Silencer bloomed between you again, thick and pulsing. You didn’t try to fill it, you let it breathe.

After a long moment, Neteyam spoke quietly, sincerely.

“That must’ve shattered you.”

You exhaled shakily, “it did.”

He looked away for a second struggling with something in himself. Then, voice low, “I know what it feels like. That kind of loss. Like a piece of you is just… missing.”

You nodded, and for the first time since the conversation started you smiled softly.

“Some days it still feels like I. Waiting for him to walk through that door. But lately… I don’t know. It’s not as loud.

Neteyam looked back at you. “And now your sharing it with a stranger you dragged up a cliff.”

A breath of laughter escaped your chest, a wet sound edged with emotion. “Your not a stranger anymore. I’ve known you two whole weeks now.” You joke.

He didn’t answer right away, but the look in his eyes softened just enough. The walls between you didn’t fall, but one of them cracked.

You hesitated before speaking again, your voice softer now, almost like you were afraid of saying too much, but unable to stop.

“We were gonna have kids.” You gave a small breathy laugh that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “That’s why there are so many rooms in this house. He thought three was a good number. But I wasn’t sure, we were excited. Carved out everything room by room.”

Neteyam came to sit next to you in the chair.

“I remember … we even argued about which room would be the nursery,” you said with a wistful smile. “He wanted the one that got the morning sun, but I said it’ll be to warm. I wanted it to be the one closest to the master bedroom, the one you’re seeking in.” You look over at him.

“Really?”

You nodded, “yeah. That was the one he lost the argument over. Said the morning sun would make it feel alive, but I didn’t care, I wanted the baby close”

Neteyam looked up at the sky, picturing the room he’s sleeping in then shot you a crooked smile, “well, I don’t cry that often, and I sleep through the night, so I’d say I’m a pretty low-maintenance baby.”

You blink, looking at him, before you let out a laugh, a short and real, surprised by the way his joke cracked through the heaviness like sunlight cutting through the clouds. “Wow” you paused, “you are not low maintenance”

He turned towards you, feigning offense, “excuse me?”

You lean back in the seat with a knowing look. “You drink all my tea and still complain about it, you steal my shower, my shampoo and conditioner. You sulk like it’s an art form. And don’t get me started on how much space you take up on that couch.”

He blinked, the leaned closer a little, his tone playful. “I get shot once and suddenly I’m high maintenance?”

You have him a mock serious look, “shot once, hijacked my nursery, and now you think you’re a resident.”

His smirk grew into a grin, “I didn’t realize sarcasm was your love language”

“Good thing it’s fluent in yours too,” you shot back.

The air between you shifted again, still teasing, still playful, but there was something in the pause afterwards. Like neither of you really wanted the conversation to end.

Neteyam’s grin lingered, but something about it sharpened at the edges, turned a little slower, a little more deliberate. His eyes didn’t leave yours.

“Is that what his is then?” He asked, voice dropping just a touch, less teasing now, more curious. “You giving me a hard time because your like me?”

You let out a short laugh, shaking your head, “don’t flatter yourself.”

His gaze dropped briefly to your mouth before netting your eyes again, bolder this time, “you don’t deny it either.”

Neteyam’s smirk curled slow, like he knew something you don’t when you didn’t answer, maybe he was daring you to say it out loud, “you say I’m not low maintenance” his voice rich with amusement, “but you haven’t kicked me out yet.”

You raise an eyebrow, lip twitching, “that’s because you’re injured and I’m a good person.”

He leaned in more just slightly, his tone low and teasing. “Nah, I think you like having me around.”

You shot him a sideways glance. “Don’t let that compliments go to your head.”

“They already have,” he said with a lazy grin, eyes flickering again down to your lips then back up, he added, “not my fault you keep giving me reasons.”

Your pulse shattered. There it was again, that magnetic tension he slipped into so effortlessly when the sad turned flirt. You crossed your arms, trying to maintain the upper hand.

“You are a menace” you said, but your voice lacked heat.

He tilted his head, eyes gleaming. “Maybe, but I’m your menace now, right?”

Your mouth opened but nothing came out. You hated how much that line hit, how it made heat crawl up the back of your neck. He chuckled softly at your silence, clearly pleased with himself.

“See? You like me.”

“Remind me to lace your tea with sleeping herbs next time.”

“Still means I get tea.” He winked.

Your breath caught, and your weren’t sure if it was from frustration or something else entirely, something warmer, heavier and far more dangerous.

“You know,” you said, voice careful, “for someone who acts so suspicious of me, your sure don’t mind pushing your luck.”

He didn’t look away, “you’ve been staring at me since the night I was passed out on that couch. Don’t pretend I’m the only one.”

You snorted softly, trying to laugh it off, “you’re half-naked most of the time even though I’ve given you clothes, I’m not blind.”

“No” he said voice lower now, more certain. “But your are pretending not to want what you want.”

That hit like a spark on dry grass. Immediate. Dangerous. You could feel the flush creeping up on your neck before you could stop it. You lean back slightly forcing some air into your lung.

“What exactly are you suggesting?”

He tilted his head, the corner of his mouth tugging into something that wasn’t quite a smirk but wasn’t far off. “I’m not suggesting anything. Just saying you look at me like you’ve got questions only your hands can answer.”

Your stomach did flips. He was too close to that truth but he wants to be bold, you can be bold too.

“And what if I do?” You asked, voice soft but defiant, “you gonna let me ask them?”

Neteyam through his weight in his elbow that sat between you both in the backrest of the chair getting closer to you, “only if you’re ready for the answers.”

Your mug hit the side table and your turn your body to face him, you felt warm, your heart was beating too hard. You didn’t say anything right away. Neteyam was still, watching you like you were prey. Only this time you weren’t prey. Not tonight.

“You talk a lot for someone who doesn’t trust me,” you said your voice low as your eyes dragged over him, over the lines of his shoulders, the bandage on his chest, the slight smirk that hadn’t left his face, “and you never stop looking either.”

He leaned back slightly, eyes locked on yours. “I never said I didn’t like what I saw.”

You didn’t even hesitate, you leaned in lifting your hand until your fingers curled into the base of his hair at the nape of his neck. His breath hitched almost imperceptibly.

“Nice try, forest boy” you whispered, voice velvet and laced with amusement. “You couldn’t handle all this.”

Your lips were close enough that the brushed the curve of his jaw as you pulled away, just barely, just enough to see the slow, dangerous smirk that unfurled on his face.

His eyes locked onto yours, dark and hungry but playful, sharp like he was weighing your challenge. “Is that a date?” He murmured, his voice was thick with heat and barely restrained ego.

You gave him a slow taunting once over. “It’s a fact.”

He laughed, low, deep and cocky as hell. “Bold words from someone who keeps looking at me like I’m dessert.”

You raise an eyebrow, smile curling. “Please. If I wanted you, you’d know it.”

His smirk deepened, and his voice dropped lower as he replied, “good thing I don’t wait for invitations”

The air between the thickened, neither of them spoke. The space that separated them seemed to disappear with every breath, their gaze locked in a quiet challenge. Not having any move restraint, Neteyam closed the gap, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was everything they both had been trying to ignore.

It was slow at first, tentative, as if testing the waters. His hand that once rested between you on the backrest now gripping the back of your hair. Your own hands falling down his neck to his chest being careful not to touch the bandages. You kissed him back, your pulse quickening. Feeling that weight if the moment.

The kiss deepened and the world outside the cabin disappeared. It was just them, locked in this electrifying connection, both of them eager to see just how far this could go.

But then he stopped. He pulled back, his breath shallow as he looked at you. His golden eyes searched your face, not for permission, he already had that, but for something steadier, safer, maybe something that said this is okay.

You exhaled, almost laughing under your breath at how fast your pulse had jumped. “Well,” you said, your voice low but teasing, “that was either a thank you or you’re really bad at asking for a second helping.”

Neteyam cracked a small grin, still a little dazed but hiding it under bravado. “Don’t flatter yourself,” he said, tilting his head. “I just wanted to prove you talk too much.”

You raised a brow, smirking. “And that was your plan?”

“It worked, didn’t it?” he shot back, voice warm, full of something light but laced with tension, even now, part of him wanted to lean in again.

The air between you was warm, charged again but no longer heavy. This time, you leaned in first just a little and said, “Maybe next time you should prove it without using your mouth.”

He huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head, eyes flicking down to your lips and back up. “Noted,” he murmured.

But neither of you moved to break the closeness, letting the night wrap around them, full of things unspoken, and things not entirely undone.

The air was cooler tonight, a light breeze had you shivering, something he took notice too. “Let’s go inside” he said softly standing and holding out a hand for you. You take it and let him lean you into the cabin locking the door behind you.

You walk into the kitchen first and he follows you, the warm light spilling from the ceiling fixtures brushing over your skin, grounding you again in the quiet house. You didn’t hear him behind you, you only turned and saw him there his larger frame leaning against the counter. He steels in slowly, deliberately, his eyes in you.

He didn’t say a word a first just came closer and closer. His arm wrapped around you brushing against your lower back, it was gentle but firm enough to draw you closer. The air between you sparked again and you didn’t back away from him, neither did he.

You leans up and kiss him this time, deeper, more controlled you both knew you wanted this now, there were no nerves, no hesitation.. His hands cradled your waist fingers splaying under your shirt against your skin. The way your body molded against him as if you had belonged there and neither of your realized until now.

Your hands move from his arms to his chest accidentally pressing around the bandage that covered his wound. He flinched, barely but it was enough for you to pull away instantly.

“Sorry,” you say quickly, trying to catch you breath but your brows were furrowed in concern, you didn’t want to hurt him. Your thumb brushed over the bandage softly the where you pressed against him. “I didn’t meant to-”

“It’s okay,” he said hoarsely, eyes closed for a second. “Just… not all the way healed yet.”

“No I know I’m sorry” your hands run up his neck holding him there. It’s clear the touch hurt him more than he’d like to admit, it wasn’t weakness you saw from him so you never understood why he hid his pain like that. “Neteyam…” you whisper his name softly.

“Tsal lu tam” one of his hands found yours and he held it as if to reassure you. You’re not sure if he realized but it was the first time Neteyam had spoken his mother tongue since he’s been in here. It sounded so different, so natural to him. You had no idea what he said but he caught your attention.

You look up at him as he catches his breath dulling the pain he had just felt. The heat between you had also dulled, tempered by the reminder of his injury.

“You’re healing fast” you say softly to him “but not that fast.”

You both still stood close, too close. He let out a low breath, nose nearly brushing yours, “it is ok” he translated without you even having to ask.

“This…doesn’t mean I don’t want to,” he said, his voice rough, tinged with frustration.

“I know, me too.” You whispered, eyes flickering over his face.

You stood for a while bodied warm, breath shared, but you both knew they crossed that next line now, with him not being fully healed, and you being apart of a completely different world. So much could go wrong now. His hand lingered a second longer before he let go.

The next few days blurred into a rhythm that felt dangerously close to domesticity, dangerous, because it felt too good with him.

Neteyam’s wound was nearly closed up now, it was almost supernatural the way he bounded back, just soreness in his chest mostly since it was almost time for you to remove the stitches that made him stiff at times.

It didn’t stop him from brushing up against him, whether it was walking past you and letting his hand graze your waist. Or standing behind you in the kitchen pressing you up against the counter as you made breakfast in the morning, his lips kissing your neck softly as reached for a fruit placing it in front of you to keep you busy so you won’t move. Or pulling you into those long, slow, steamy kisses that always left you weak in the knees, half forgotten that this wasn’t supposed to happen.

There were times your find yourself wrapped up in his strong arms as he held you against him, the press of his mouth hungry but unhurried on anywhere he could reach like he was memorizing you. Other times it was just a look from across the dinning table, a brief brush of fingers together when he held your hand in his, left you breathless.

Still, you both didn’t sleep in the same room at night even though sometimes you’d lay in bed hoping he came to lay with you but you knew that would take you across another line you both shouldn’t be near. It made your heart ache with want and wariness.

What really stuck with you was the day he first kissed you, the day you hurt him accidentally and he slipped his mother tongue. His voice in na’vi stirred something deep. It was so intimate to you, like he let his guard down and he hadn’t realized. He didn’t notice you heard.

But you did and it stuck.

It followed you for the next week or so, no matter how weak Neteyam made you feel on the inside and outside, no matter what you two laughed about, no matter how sweet or what nicknames he called you out of amusement, or attraction. The nagging thought in the back of your mind didn’t leave.

What happens when he leaves?

The question would not be what if, but when. You saved him life, you know who he is, you know he is someone’s son, someone’s brother. And they still think he is dead, and they miss him. He knows he missed them back and you couldn’t put yourself in a position to keep him from his family. It’s just not something you’d do.

He was healing quickly, another week from now he may very well be fully healed. It took you a month to fall for him, it was so easy. What happens when you have to spend the rest of your years alone? Cause in case you forgot the RDA thinks you’re dead too. You are free from them, but you are not accepted anywhere except with then.

It was late in the day when you finally decided to ask him about it. The sun was setting and Neteyam was sitting in the porch swing, shirtless, bandage long gone, his chest more marked only by a scar that caught the light like a whisper of what happened. You know it wouldn’t go away.

You step out with a mug of tea for him, heart pounding in your chest for reason that had nothing to do with the drink in your hand. He looked up when you approached with a smile tugging his lips and warm eyes and you sat next to him handing him the mug. Your shoulders barely touched unlike how you’ve been for the past week and a half. Never without touching.

You both say silently for a few beats watching the wind roll through the trees.

Then, softly you asked him, “do you miss them? Your family, your friends”

Neteyam didn’t look at you right away. He took a slow sip of his tea and let out a long breath. “Every day.”

You nod, the words felt heavy even though you knew the answer. Your fingers play with the sleeves of your sweater. “It’s been almost four weeks now.”

Your eyes meet the horizon, “you’re almost fully healed. Strong. And I know you’ve been thinking about it.” You turn to him, eyes searching his face. “What are you going to do?”

He was quiet for a long time.

You look away staring back at the swaying trees, “when will you go back?”

Finally, Neteyam turned to face you, eyes narrowing slightly, more serious now, “soon” he admitted with no sign of joy in the word. “I have to. They’re probably out of their minds.”

You nod, heart sinking but you press on, “and what happens then?”

“What do you mean?” He tilited his head.

“I mean…” you swallow. “What happens to us? To me?”

His silence stretched again.

“I’m not like you Neteyam” you say, “there is no going back for me. This-” you gesture vaguely towards the house and the land around you, “-this is my life now, I made my lease with it, staying here forever, I though I’d be doing that alone.” You pause. “And don’t misunderstand me, I have no regret saving you. But you’ve made being here alone…harder.”

He blinked slowly, haze softening but he said nothing.

“I want- no I need to know what I am to you. If I’m just a…. chapter, a strong you’ll take home when you leave. Or am I something else?”

Neteyam shifts, setting his tea down. His golden eyes locked on your, and his usually sarcastic sass and humor was gone, replaced by something raw.

He looked at you for a long moment. His face didn’t change by something in his eyes flickered, conflict? Guilt? The weight of something he didn’t know how to say.

He reached for your hand, thumb brushing over your knuckles with surprising gentleness, and when he finally spoke, his voice was steady. Painfully steady.

“I never thought I’d be here this long.” He admitted, “at first, I was just trying to survive. But then you, kept helping me and talking to me and letting me stay here. You were so unbelievably to get comfortable with and that’s saying a lot coming from me. We clicked. You made it hard not to care.”

Your chest ached but you didn’t interrupt.

“I didn’t expect you. You were complicated and I never say you coming. Maybe I didn’t want to.” He glanced up.

You tired to breath, but you felt like your ribs couldn’t move.

“I think about you, too” he said, voice softer now. “I watch you when you’re not looking and I remember every word you every whispered in my ear, the way you touch me when you didn’t mean to. Or when you did cause I…” he couldn’t find the right word, maybe he just didn’t want to say it.

A half smile tugged at his lips. Bittersweet.

“But this…us… it’s not that simple.” He whispered

Silence.

“You have made this cabin so domestic and amazing and I’m so grateful to have spent this time with you. You have your roots here. I don’t, and I know you know that.”

Your lips parted, but no words came. You didn’t want to say it aloud.

He leaned in, pressing his forehead to yours, his breath was warm between you both. But you couldn’t breathe.

“If I were someone else,” he mumbled, “maybe this could be something simple, easy. But I’m not. I have people waiting for me. I am the first son of Toruk Makto. A war that u walked away from but never stopped being apart of.”

You closed your eyes before you could feel yourself tear up.

“I have to fill a spot that literally no one else can fill. I am a highly skilled, trained warrior. I take down bases single handedly sweetheart. I can’t put this burden on someone else, on my brother. I have a responsibility to my people. To my clan.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered.

But he already was.

And you both knew it.

Now you’re quite the air between you changed. You shifted slightly back leaning back against the backrest your knee now touching his.

“You always look at me like that” he turned his head, eyes dark, held something you couldn’t figure out.

“Like what?”

“Like I’m staying.”

Your heart skipped, you don’t answer, you can’t.

He leans in just enough for you to feel his warmth again and he pulled you closer. “Come here, look at me” he pulls you in effortlessly.

“You know I want to,” he murmurs. “You feel it too…don’t you?”

And before you can say anything he kisses you. Your legs were thrown over his as he held you close. The kiss was slow, soft, deep. Not rushed this time just full of everything neither of you had said out loud.

His hand comes to rest on your thigh, warm and steady. You lean into him, one hand curling against his chest where his heart thuds strong beneath her palm. The kiss lingers, pulls her under

The swing creaked beneath you both as he picks you up into his lap, not bringing the kiss. You shift in his lap without thinking swinging one leg over to straddle him properly. His hands gripped your waist under your sweater, you could feel the strength in his arms, solid, grounding you.

“You drive me insane,” he mumbled against your lips, voice rough, breath hot. “You shouldn’t… but you do.”

You kiss hind again in answer, hands threading through this hair, tugging gently until he growled low in his throat, his breath fanning across your pulse point.

You barely notice the night air anymore. Your fingers trailed down his chest, feeling the rise and fall of the muscle and warmth, the way he arched into your touch like he couldn’t help it.

“I don’t want to stop.” You whisper, heart pounding.

His hands stilled in her hips, holding her tight, “then don’t.”

You searched his eyes, those amber eyes darkened with desire, with something deeper and say the truth here. Neither of you wanted to stop. Not tonight.

Neteyam held your gaze for only a heartbeat before he wrapped around you picking you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. He effortlessly carried you up the stairs to the bedroom. His stride was steady, but urgent like he waited long enough.

Your arms tightened around his shoulders as he climbed, the heat between you growing with every step. You kiss the side of his neck, and he let out a low, strained sound before he finally dropped you onto the bed making your squeal.

“You sure?” He asked, voice a low rasp, his hands flexing as he grabbing your ankles holding your legs up and apart. And you nod without hesitation.

“I want you.” You voice as you pull him down over you for another kiss. Neteyam kissed down your neck hungrily, leaving marks in his wake. His hands had been slowly pushing your sweat up he pushed over your head quickly and tossed it somewhere on the floor.

He raised his head for a beat staring down at how pretty you looked, blush covering your face, hair messy, topless in front of him. Neteyam didn’t waste anytime hooking his fingers in your shorts and patties tugging them down with haste in one swift movement leaving you completely exposed under him.

“Your so pretty, so fucking pretty like this for me” he mumbles as he kisses down your body holding both your touch tits in his hands he licked and sucked at the skin before he flicked his tongue against your right nipple. Your back arched off the bed with a sweet moan which made his tail whip excitedly behind him.

“Fuck..” you whisper, rolling your eyes back and biting your lip at the feeling of his tongue playing with your nipples. Neteyam sucked until he bruised them before he moved down your stomach to your core.

He held your thighs in his hand spreading them open as he looked at the slick leaking out of your weeping hole. He groaned in satisfaction even though he hasn’t even touched you yet, “baby is this for all for me?”

He knew the answer, he knows it’s his. He wants you to say it. “Yes yes…yours Nete” you sing feverishly, anything for him to get down there and make you feel good.

“Yea that’s mine sevin” he called you a name in his mother tongue and you almost rolled your eyes even though you didn’t know what it meant.

“W-what does that mean?” You asked breathlessly.

“It means pretty, you are so pretty! Fucking gorgeous.” He said before he takes his pants off bare and hard underneath.

Your eyes widen slightly as he stroked himself looking down at your body, just admiring all he already did to it. Thinking about all he’s about to do.

He laid down on the bed next to you and pulled you up and over him. Neteyam’s hand gripped your hair softly pushing you down towards his length, “gonna be a good girl and suck my cock?”

You nod again feverishly, no way you’d say no to his tone, or those words that made you want to ride him until you pass out. You bring your head down willingly licking a stride up his length to the top and swirling your tongue around it.

Neteyam moans which is quickly becoming your favorite sound, your tail whips in the air. He grabs it quickly wrapping it around his around using it to lift your lower body until his face was between your tights. His hands ran the outside of your thighs up to your ass and back down a few times as he rolled his eyes back and mown at your trying to deep throat his cock that clearly didn’t fit in your mouth.

Your tongue twirled around his length anyway you could make it go as he gave your ass a nice slap making you moan against him, vibrations sent shivers down to your cunt. Your life your head for some needs sir gasping loudly as you come up. You stroke his cock while looking between your legs are the absolutely glorious expression on his face,

It was amazing watching him fall apart for your tongue, you could imagine what he’d feel like once he finally got to stretch you out with his cock, and you couldn’t wait.

Finally, Neteyam pulled your lower half down by your ass and licked a stride up your cunt from your clit to your hole, you gagged, and you moaned on his cock not expecting him to do that. He let out an amusement chuckle at that, “oh great mother..” he mumbled, “I love it when you gag on my cock like that” he moaned as you curled your tongue on him. “You like gagging on my cock sevin?” You pull your head off him once more letting out a desperate yes into the air before you go back down.

Your face was messy with spit and precum, but you didn’t care, you wanted him to come in your, outnumbered if you could make him, Neteyam’s tongue worked wonders on your clit you almost stop being about to focus moving your head up and down.

He marked up your thighs turning them purple before he sucked on your clit, his tongue flicked up and down, side to side, in circles until he had your arching your back and crying, he had you so lose to coming when he slapped your ass again, something else you’re growing to like.

Your tail whipped harshly in the air, hitting the headboard, sometimes the the bed next to your legs before it wrapped around Neteyam’s left arm. He knew you were close from how much more you were moaning for him to make you cum.

He greedily didn’t waste a drop of your essence when his tongue fucked it out of you before giving you another slap on the ass and pushing you off him. He quickly switched positions getting back on top of you, “I didn’t know you were so good at that baby, I would’ve asked you to suck a cock so long ago.”

He’s hand came up squishing your cheeks together, it wasn’t to hurt you he just loved the fucked our express you sported, he wanted to touch it.

“Would you have sweet? Sucked my cock if I asked you before?” He asked your sitting up on his knees as he spread you open lining himself up. You nod vigorously at him, “mhmmm.” You replied.

He could cum in the stop from how submissive you were, he was honestly surprised you didn’t fight him down more to be in top, not that he was complaining. Seeing his girl under him like this couldn’t have been a sexier view.

“Ready for me to fuck you baby?”

You nodded messily brushing the hair away from your face.

“No no no I wanna hear you this time, want me to make you cum in my cock sweetheart?” He chuckled.

“Yes, yes pleasesss tey.” You moaned as he slapped his cock head on your clit a couple times before he slowly pushed it in. His head rocked back, and he rolled his eyes when he felt how amazingly tight you were.

“Holy fuck…your so fucking tight.” His body falls over yours his hands on both sides of your head as he looks down at your expression. Blush tenfold, mouth wide open as if you were silently screaming as he stretched you open.

You body was adjusting to him quickly, but it felt like he had cock for days. When you thought you couldn’t fit anymore, he made his entire length fit with a sweet scream from you.

“Oh, my goddd” you roll your eyes, nails digging into his shoulder trying to keep your grip on something. You moans turned to pants as he started to slowly push in and out of you. His hair fell over, acting like a curtain that blocked you from the outside world.

His eyes were bright with desire as he stared down at you. “You feel so good!” You moan between thrust. Which made him smile widely canines in full display. He stuffed his face in your neck and grazed them against your already bruised up skin.

“Fuckkkkk me harder! Please tey” you moan as you rack your hands in his hair pushing it back so you could see his face. You smile you as him biting your lip, but it didn’t stop your little moans that he fucked out of you.

Neteyam chuckled as how needy you were for more, his arms went down to your thighs to hold them, pulling your body into his thrust. His grip was strong you’re sure you’d have bruises literally when he was down. Your tail lashed until it wrapped around his strong thigh trying to ground yourself.

“‘m gonna cum! Gonna cum tey” you mewl into the air along with your sweet moans. Your nails raked scratch marks on his back and arms, he’s fucking you so good. Neteyam fucked you like it was his one and only job in the whole world.

You didn’t get a chance to say anything else before your roll your eyes back and scream, arching your back you came squirting in his thighs and abdomen. Your eyes squeezed shut as you moan from the stimulation.

He slowed down to admire your work, but you quickly stopped him, “don’t stop, don’t stop! Keep going! Cum!” You demanded he came for you now.

Your mind was delirious your only thoughts were his big hands on your body, the feeling on his cock bullying its way into your stomach felt incredible. And now that you were being overstimulated. You wanted nothing more than for him to empty his load in you and put you to bed.

And that’s exactly what he planned on doing. Neteyam smiled wickedly as he pulled out and flipped you over on all fours. “Ready to make me cum sweet?” He pulled you up and down positioning you properly and spoke in your ear as he leaned over your body.

You nod feverishly wanting nothing more than that, “yeah? Gonna be a good girl and make me cum?”

“Yes, yes yes yesssss” you moan into the air loudly as he reentered you and started to pound away. First his hands slapped your ass again, grabbing your hips and pulling you in. Neteyam felt like he was a different kind of depth from this angle, he was snug in your cunt. So much so that he was fucking you, but you couldn’t make a sound. Every thrust knocked the air out of you.

That was until he started to fuck faster. Your upped body dropped to the bed head turned to the side so you could see him from the corner of your eye but it didn’t last long, he laced his fingers in your hair pulling you back up so you had no choice but to help hold yourself back up. You couldn’t do anything but scream, it was literally screaming or nothing, you couldn’t find it in yourself to quiet down at all. His fucking just didn’t allow that.

“Look at me sweetheart, being such a good fucking girl for me” he teased and taunted. It actually made you feel pretty, you wanted to be like this for him, you didn’t want him to have anyone but you like this either.

You wanted to nod but his grip on your hair stopped you. You didn’t expect him to pull you back more, his thrust were monstrous but his grip was gentle bending you back in ways you didn’t know you could bend, your head was looking up and him and he leaned down giving you a slowly kiss.

You wanted to cum again but your just couldn’t voice it this time, your voice was not gone, you just could reach it from the angle you were in so without warning again your squirt messing him up some more. Your jaw was slack as he let go of your hair and grabbed your arms by your elbow pulling your body back to him.

You couldn’t think straight you started to push back even more wanting him to fuck you harder, but you couldn’t find the words, and harder he fucked until he emptied his entire soul into your cunt. The groan he let out was animalistic, if you were so fucked out on him you might have gotten scared.

Nevertheless Neteyam eased his cock out of you watching his cum ooze out of your now gaping hole. He rolled his eyes in satisfaction as he dropped down next to you, immediately pulling you into his embrace. He snuggles his face into your neck as he felt your pant to catch your breath.

“Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you did I?” He whispered into your skin.

“Mhmm, I’m okay, you didn’t hurt me” you nod softly, whispering that words, “I’m great” you turn your body to face his molding into his touch as he held you impossibly close, with a smile.

“I guess we established I can more than keep up.” He chuckled softly making you giggle. He picked you up taking you to the bathroom to clean up standing under the shower with you, wrapped around your frame. He didn’t take his hands off you for a second, he didn’t want to be away from you. And neither did you.

Neteyam took your to bed and got in with your wrapping his arms around you pulling the blanket over both of you. It was a bit earlier than you normally went to sleep but you were complaining. You just wanted to be here, with him.

You press a kiss on his chest where his heart was before whispering, “this wasn’t just…nothing. Right?”

His hand paused on her back, he took a breath, then another. “No” he said, voice soft, thoughtful. “It wasn’t nothing.” He kissed to top of your head.

But it wasn’t a promise either.

He tilted your chin up gently. His golden eyes meeting yours. They were searching your face like they were trying to understand something even he couldn’t name, “you’re different,” he murmured. “From anyone I’ve ever known.”

You smiled, a little sad, “that’s not always a good thing.”

“It is to me.”

After that you didn’t say anything snuggling against him as sleep found both of you.

The days that followed blurred together in a quiet, desperate sort of bliss.

Neteyam was healed now, at least, enough to walk without wincing, to stretch without pulling at the scar that had once marked his chest. His strength had returned, slow but steady, and with it came the quiet understanding that time was running out. That he would leave soon.

But neither of you said it.

Instead, you both clung to the days you had left.

He moved through your space like he belonged there now. Not as a guest, not as the stranger you’d patched up on your couch, but as someone who knew exactly where the mugs were kept, who always reached for the same towel in the morning, who leaned against the counter behind her while you cooked and stole bites with a lazy smirk before you could even plate the food.

And you let him.

You let him wrap his arms around your waist from behind while you stood at the sink, let him kiss the spot beneath your ear that made your breath catch. You let him wrap you both in a blanket when the nights got cold. He would tease you, calling you tiny from how well you fit in that space.

You laughed too much, touched too much, kissed like you didn’t want to stop. And sometimes, you didn’t.

You danced in the kitchen one night to music playing low from an old speaker, his hand warm and firm against the small of your back, your cheek resting on his shoulder as if it had always been meant to fit there.

It started as a joke, you were washing dishes, swaying with the song singing it softly from the speaker on the windowsill. It was an old song. Something smooth and low, something just enough to make your hips sway with rhythm. Neteyam had been leaning against the counter, chewing the last bite of fruit, watching your with that quiet little smirk that had become all too familiar.

“You’re dancing,” he noted.

You turn and look at him over your shoulder, “and you’re not.”

He steals forward, exaggerated and smug, “you’re saying you want me to?”

“I’m saying you couldn’t keep up,” you teased, flicking water in his direction.

His eyes gleamed with challenge.

Before you could retreat, he was there, grabbing the towel from your hands, tossing it aside, and pulling you in by the waist. Your laugh bubbled out of you before you could stop it, light and surprised, your fingers gripping his arms for balance as he spun you into the open space of the kitchen.

You hadn’t expected him to actually be good at it.

But he was, surprisingly graceful, moving with a rhythm that came as naturally as breathing. His steps were confident, fluid, his hands strong and sure at your waist. He twirled you suddenly, catching you with an arm around your back when you stumbled, dizzy with laughter.

“I thought you said I couldn’t keep up?” he said, voice smug near your ear.

“That was before you cheated,” you accused, cheeks flushed and eyes shining.

He grinned, slow and smug. “You just don’t know how to be led.”

Before you could reply, he dipped you low, one hand firm at your back, the other holding your hand as you arched with a breathless gasp, your hair brushing the wooden floor. You clutched his shoulder for balance, eyes locked with his. The music kept playing, but in that moment, you could barely hear it.

He didn’t pull you up right away.

Just stood there, holding you like that, close and quiet, his expression unreadable, but something simmered beneath it.

And you suddenly forgot how to breathe when he leaned down and kissed you, deep and passionately.

Sometimes, you caught him staring at you when he thought you weren’t looking, after dinner, when you were tucked into the corner of the couch in one of his oversized shirts; in the garden, when the light caught your hair just right. And when you looked back, he didn’t look away.

But he never said anything. And neither did you.

You kissed like lovers. You moved like partners. You lived like something close to more.

But neither of you used the word.

Because the word would mean permanence.

And this? This wasn’t permanent.

The morning he was supposed to leave came too fast.

The air felt heavy and still, as if the forest itself knew this was the end of something. You stood in the kitchen, a warm mug of tea cupped between your hands, untouched. The steam curled lazily toward the ceiling and vanished, just like everything else good lately seemed to.

He hadn’t come downstairs yet. But you knew he was awake.

You’d heard his footsteps moving upstairs before the sun had fully risen. He always woke before you now, falling into your rhythm like he was meant to be here. For over a month now, he’d been a presence you could rely on. You’d gotten used to the way his voice rumbled through your house, to the way he touched things gently, to the sound of him breathing next to you.

He was leaving. And you didn’t know how to hold onto something that was never really yours.

You heard him descending the stairs, and your breath caught without permission. When you turned, he was there, shoulders squared, spear-clothes replaced with something more familiar to him. A satchel was slung over his shoulder, and for the first time since the day you found him, he looked like he belonged to another world.

His world.

Not yours.

He stepped closer, wordless, and took the mug from your hands, setting it gently on the counter. His fingers grazed yours. They lingered for half a second too long. It wasn’t an accident. You didn’t pull away.

You said quietly, “You don’t have to say anything. I get it.”

He held your gaze. The look in his eyes was careful, unreadable—until it wasn’t. You saw it in the way he blinked a little too slowly, like he was trying not to let it show. The conflict. The sadness.

“You shouldn’t be alone out here,” he said.

You gave a half-hearted smile. “I was alone before you. I’ll be fine after.”

He didn’t agree. But he didn’t argue either.

Instead, he stepped forward and rested his forehead against yours. His hands lifted to your cheeks, cradling your face like something breakable. You closed your eyes and let your breath catch in your throat. The moment stretched, full of everything you couldn’t say—everything you wanted to ask but already knew the answer to.

“So that’s it?” you whispered.

There was no reply.

He kissed you. Soft. Intentional. Not rushed. It wasn’t heat or hunger—it was a goodbye. His lips moved against yours like he was trying to memorize you. His hands trembled slightly at your jaw, but he didn’t let go. Not until you had to breathe.

When he pulled away, his forehead rested against yours one last time.

And then he stepped back.

You didn’t stop him. You wanted to, but your feet wouldn’t move.

He looked at you once more. Just once.

He stood there for a moment, shoulders tense, back straight—like he was bracing himself. Then he looked over, just enough for you to see the conflict in his eyes.

“I keep thinking if I look at you too long, I’ll stay.”

His voice was low, almost hoarse, but steady. “You made this place feel… like more than just a place to heal. And I wasn’t ready for that.”

His fingers tightened on the handle. “But this, whatever this is between us, it’s not nothing. You know that, right?”

He looked at you long enough to see you cover your lips with your fingers and nod.

Then he turned, opened the door, and walked out.

The air was thick with the warmth of the afternoon sun as the waves lapped gently against the shore, and the village hummed with life. Tuk and a few of the younger Metkayina children were playing near the edge of the water when the distant figure of a Na’vi appeared. At first, they couldn’t be sure, but then—

“Neteyam?” Tuk’s voice was barely a whisper, but it cut through the air like a knife.

In an instant, her eyes widened, and a breathless gasp escaped her lips. “NETEYAM!”

Her scream rang out, drawing the attention of everyone around. Tuk’s small body shot forward, running as fast as her legs could carry her. Her feet kicked up sand as she rushed toward the figure now stepping onto the shore. The other villagers froze for a moment, watching in shock as the younger girl sprinted toward her brother.

Tuk reached him first, her small arms wrapping around his legs as she sobbed, her tears flowing freely. “You’re alive… You’re alive!” she cried, her voice cracking with emotion.

Tuk never let go of him, clinging desperately to her brother as she looked up at him, still not fully believing her eyes.

Neteyam knelt slightly to pick her up, arms wrapping tightly around her. “Hey, little one,” he whispered, burying his face in her hair. “I missed you too.”

Lo’ak didn’t speak. He didn’t move. He just stared, lips parted, his heart thundering in his chest. Then, like something snapped loose inside him, he moved, fast, running to them, barely stopping before he threw his arms around his older brother in a crushing hug. Tuk was squeezed between them, but neither seemed to notice.

“Neteyam,” Lo’ak breathed, voice cracking. “You’re…here.”

Neteyam laughed under his breath, voice thick. “I here baby bro.

Behind them, Kiri came forward, blinking rapidly against her tears. She smiled through them as she reached out to touch Neteyam’s arm. Since one arm held tuk and the other rested on the back of Lo’ak’s head, Neteyam rest his head on kiri’s when she hugged him. “Brother…you are safe.” he whispered as if to confirm it was him.

He had missed them so much, he thought about this day everyday since you saved his laugh.

“Where are mom and dad?” Neteyam asked them.

“They are at home...” Kiri spoke up softly.

“Come let us go to them,” Neteyam ushered them along putting Tuk down for her to run ahead, Lo’ak walked next to him with Neteyam’s arm still on the back of his head and Kiri holding his other hand on the other side of him.

They walk along the path together until they made it in front of the Mauri. Tuk was hyperventilating trying to explain to them Neteyam was there but her words were so fast and jumbled they didn’t understand.

Tuk burst in with a breathless cry, her voice high and jumbled. “He’s here! He’s— I saw him— outside—he’s here!”

Jake’s brow furrowed. Neytiri looked up immediately, alarm in her eyes. “Tuk,” she said carefully, “slow down—who is here?”

But Tuk just spun, pointing to the entrance, tears already brimming. “Just look!”

Jake and Neytiri exchanged a glance, uncertain, cautious, and then stood, slowly, like they were afraid to hope.

And then he stepped into view.

Neteyam stood tall in the doorway, backlit by the soft glow of the evening. His body was leaner than before, marked with faint scars and sun-darkened skin, but he was there. Whole. Alive.

Neytiri didn’t breathe. Her eyes locked onto his face, wide and wet before her lips even parted.

“Neteyam?” she whispered, voice cracking.

Jake was frozen beside her, shoulders drawn tight with tension that hadn’t left him since the day they lost him.

But when Neteyam took one step forward and murmured, “Hi, sa’nok,” that was all it took.

Neytiri let out a sound somewhere between a sob and a prayer as she crossed the distance in seconds, throwing her arms around him. Her hands clutched at his back, his hair, his face, like she needed to touch every part to believe it was real.

Jake was only a breath behind her, wrapping both of them up in his arms.

Neteyam, once the calmest in the family, trembled under their grip.

“I’m sorry,” he said, barely audible, voice rough with emotion. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Agh!” Neytiri hissed cutting him off, “you are not at fault my son.” She reassumed him quickly.

“I should have come back sooner, I was healing. I am sorry.” Neteyam continued softly.

“All that matters is that you’re here now.” Jake said as he held his face looking him in the eyes. “You are so strong, and we are so proud of you.”

Neytiri nodded as she sobbed hugging him once more. “Thank you, great mother! Thank you!”

Neteyam gave a small, broken laugh. And then Tuk wrapped herself around his side, Kiri touched his arm gently, and even Lo’ak, head lowered and eyes red, pulled him into a fierce hug from behind.

He was home.

They sat together in the family mauri, close like they hadn’t been in weeks—no, months. The woven floor creaked softly beneath them as if it remembered their weight. Neytiri hadn’t stopped touching him: her hand brushed over his arm again and again like she couldn’t believe he was solid, real. Jake sat beside her, face unreadable, but his eyes never left Neteyam.

Kiri and Tuk sat cross-legged in front of him, and Lo’ak curled beside his older brother with his head on his shoulder. The silence that had followed the reunion lingered for only a few more seconds before Jake spoke.

“Where the hell have you been?”

The question wasn’t sharp, his voice cracked, it was full of awe and something that sounded like fear still clinging to his voice. Neytiri looked at Neteyam quickly, her brows pinched, echoing the question without saying it aloud.

Lo’ak added quietly, “We thought something must’ve taken you. One minute you were on the rock and when we returned you were just…gone.”

“Were you taken?” Kiri’s voice was gentler, more cautious. “Did someone find you? How did you survive?”

Neteyam’s eyes dropped to the floor, his fingers moving slowly against the edge of the mat. “It’s… a long story,” he said finally.

Jake frowned. “We have time.”

But Neteyam just shook his head. “I was lucky. That’s all. I got out of the water. I healed.”

“Alone?” Neytiri asked softly.

His jaw shifted slightly. “Not exactly.”

They all looked at each other, waiting, the questions thick in the air.

But Neteyam didn’t offer more.

Lo’ak frowned. “You’re not gonna tell us what happened?”

“I’m here. That’s what matters.” His voice was calm, but firm. Unmovable as he rested his hand on Lo’ak’s head once more.

There was a long pause.

Jake’s shoulders sank slightly, but he didn’t press. “Alright. We won’t push.”

Neytiri reached for his hand and squeezed it gently. “You’ll tell us when you’re ready.”

Neteyam met her eyes, a flash of guilt there, but also protectiveness. “Yeah.”

The silence settled again, but this time it wasn’t heavy. It was filled with the sound of being together again. The sound of breathing. Of warmth. Of a family no longer broken.

But the mystery remained, where had Neteyam gone? And who had helped him heal?

Over the next two weeks, the cracks in Neteyam’s armor began to show, subtle at first, but impossible to ignore.

It was little things at first, like the way he’d go rigid at the sudden crack of a fish net snapping, or the sharp clang of a pot dropped onto stone. He would still himself completely, eyes darting around before relaxing, but always a second too late, always too visibly. The others noticed. His father said nothing. Neytiri frowned often, quietly watching him from across the marui.

He wasn’t cruel to his siblings, but he wasn’t as patient as he’d always been. One afternoon, Tuk was playing with her shell collection, chattering brightly, when she accidentally dropped one. It cracked sharply on the floor and she let out a high-pitched scream, part startle, part sadness.

Neteyam was on her in an instant.

He knelt in front of her, hands gentle as he turned her arms and checked her legs for injury, for blood, for anything. But there was nothing. Just a wide-eyed little sister with a broken toy. He exhaled shakily, then said, just a touch too sharp, too strained, “Why? You have nothing to be screaming for.”

Tuk’s lip trembled. She didn’t cry, but her small voice whispered, “I’m sorry.”

He softened immediately, brushing her hair back with a tender sigh. “No. I’m sorry, Tuk. I didn’t mean it like that.”

His thoughts spiraled in quiet waves, always leading back to you. How you held his face in your hands. How you smelled after your shower. How your fingers twitched when you embroidered, always pulling too tight on the first stitch. The memory of your breath, warm against his throat.

He tried to bury it, keep himself moving. He picked up the bracelet work again. Lo’ak walked in one day, brows furrowed. “You don’t even give those to people.”

Neteyam didn’t answer. He just kept weaving the pattern you’d taught him. Tight, crooked in one corner. Familiar.

It was the singing they noticed first.

Soft and low, barely more than a breath, but always the same melody. A tune no one in the family had heard before, one with an unfamiliar rise and fall, notes that sounded like comfort… and ache. Neteyam hummed it without realizing, usually when his hands were busy—carving, weaving, or washing. Even when he walked along the shoreline at dusk, the melody trailed behind him like a shadow.

His siblings started to pick up on it. Kiri heard it while braiding her hair one morning and paused, tilting her head toward him. Lo’ak noticed it when they were spearfishing—Neteyam would drift off, his lips moving soundlessly until he jerked himself back to the moment. Tuk hummed it too, mimicking him unconsciously, but when she asked where it came from, Neteyam just looked away.

The song belonged to you, though he never said your name.

The silence he carried was louder than any melody.

And the sleep… or lack of it… that was next.

He didn’t sleep on his pillow anymore. Not like before. Instead, he wrapped his arms around it, buried his face in the cottony middle, and curled himself tight like he was afraid of unraveling. His tail no longer lay relaxed across the woven mat; it was tucked close to his body, tense. Every few hours, he’d toss and turn, then sit up, wide-eyed and disoriented, breathing hard like he’d just been yanked from some far-off place.

Some nights, he paced in front of the marui, arms folded tight across his chest, jaw tense. Other nights he sat on the edge of his sleeping mat, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor while the rest of the family lay still. His eyes looked bruised with fatigue, but he never said he was tired.

And when he did sleep, it was only for a little while. A flicker of peace, until something small, a shout, a crashing wave, a shell hitting the ground, snapped him back to the surface.

Like the day Kiri accidentally dropped a basket and screamed when it fell apart. Neteyam had flinched so hard he nearly stumbled. He whipped his head to look at her, eyes scanning her arms, her legs, checking for blood, for breaks, for pain. But she was fine just startled. And when he realized there were no injuries, his face shifted.

“What the fuck Kiri? Get a grip. Literally,” he said, calm, but short, his voice clipped and colder than she’d ever heard it.

Kiri blinked up at him, surprised. His hands were still on her shoulders, but his touch was lighter now. Gentle again. Like he knew he’d overstepped but didn’t have the words to fix it. He stood without another word and walked away. Later that night, he brought her a sweetfruit and kissed her hair in apology, but didn’t bring it up again.

His parents were quiet about it, but they noticed too.

They saw how he’d zone out during meals, fingers moving in patterns they couldn’t recognize, embroidery, little woven strands, sometimes bracelets he didn’t give to anyone. The designs were different from the ones he learned growing up. Too intricate, too… specific. Clearly taught by someone else but who? They couldn’t say. They watched how he braided strands of twine for hours, all different colors and patterns, then tucked it under his sleeping mat like a secret.

Jake and Neytiri exchanged glances but didn’t press. Not yet. Because their son had come back to them alive… but not entirely whole.

And while they didn’t know who he was grieving, they could see it in everything he did.

Even the way he hummed that melody in the middle of the night, just loud enough to keep himself company, just quiet enough to mourn.

The glow of the bioluminescent lanterns outside the marui flickered faintly, casting soft light through the woven walls. Neteyam lay on his side on the sleeping mat, eyes half open, his arm loosely clutching the pillow he’d once only used for support. Now, he held it as if it were grounding him, something to anchor him in the silence of his own mind.

Behind him, Lo’ak’s forehead was pressed gently to his back, breathing slow and even. He’d done this every night since Neteyam came home. Said nothing about it. Just curled up behind him like he needed to be sure he was real, listening to the steady beat of his heart before he could sleep himself.

A soft rustle stirred the quiet, and Neteyam’s ears twitched before he turned his head slightly toward the sound.

Neytiri stood at the entrance of the marui, her presence light, careful not to startle. Her eyes searched his in the dim glow soft, loving, concerned.

“Can’t sleep?” she asked gently, crouching beside him.

Neteyam didn’t speak at first. Just blinked slowly, then nodded. “Some nights are harder than others.”

She reached forward, brushing her fingers through his braids the way she had when he was younger. “You do not have to hold it all inside, ma ’itan.”

“I’m not,” he murmured. Then quieter, “Not all of it.”

Neytiri tilted her head, watching his face. “You jump when things fall. You are quiet when you used to laugh. You are here, but your spirit is still traveling.”

He swallowed, shifting slightly, careful not to wake Lo’ak. “I’m just… tired, sa’nok. That’s all.”

“You hold your pillow like someone who misses the weight of a body beside them,” she said softly, her tone tender, not accusing. “You hum songs you did not know before. And you walk at night like the stars will answer you.”

Neteyam’s jaw tightened, but his eyes glistened with something unspoken.

“I am not asking for your secrets,” Neytiri added. “Just your heart. Let it rest, even for a little while.”

“I’m trying,” he whispered. His voice cracked just slightly. “I really am.”

She leaned in and kissed his forehead, then rested her own there for a long moment. “You don’t have to carry the whole war inside you anymore.”

When she pulled back, she smiled gently, brushing a thumb along his temple. “Goodnight, ma yawntu.”

“Goodnight, sa’nok,” he murmured.

Neytiri glanced at Lo’ak still sleeping soundly behind him, pressed to his back like a second heartbeat. Her eyes softened again. Then, without another word, she slipped out, leaving the siblings bundled in quiet comfort, one dreaming, the other still chasing peace behind heavy eyelids.

The sun had barely climbed above the tide when voices echoed outside the Sully family mauri — familiar, lighthearted. Lo’ak stepped out first to greet them, the sound of splashing feet in the shallows carrying over the breeze.

Aonung and Tsireya.

It had been nearly a month since the clan believed Neteyam was dead, taken by the sea before they could say goodbye. Now, he was alive. Healing. Quiet. Changed.

Neteyam sat cross-legged on his sleeping mat, back straight, hands loosely clasped. His shoulders tensed when he heard their laughter. It was strange, he’d missed them. He’d once teased Aonung over every clumsy spear throw and laughed until his stomach hurt at Tsireya’s mimicry of her father’s scolding tone. But today, something coiled tight in his chest.

They stepped into view.

Tsireya.

His breath caught.

She looked just like you in the sunlight.

The wide, curious eyes. The soft shape of her mouth when she smiled. The way her hair framed her face, falling like waves over her shoulders. His mind buckled beneath the weight of memories, the scent of your skin after a shower, your laugh when you danced around the cabin, your fingers pulling thread through cloth as you taught him embroidery. Tsireya’s presence was a mirror, not a perfect one, but close enough to sting.

He stood slowly, greeting them with a half-smile. “You came to see if I’m real.”

Tsireya laughed, warm and sweet. “You’re not a ghost. That much is clear.”

Neteyam’s eyes didn’t leave hers. Not a ghost, she said, but he felt like one, like something still tethered to someone not here.

Aonung clapped him on the shoulder. “You look like you wrestled a palulukan and won. Barely.”

They laughed. Neteyam smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

Later, when they all sat for lunch, Neteyam made space next to him and wordlessly tapped the mat, motioning Tsireya over. She glanced at Lo’ak, who gave her a subtle nod. She settled beside Neteyam, and he immediately rested his hand on her knee, a gesture so natural, no one questioned it. Except Lo’ak, who paused mid-bite.

Neteyam didn’t notice. He was focused on the way Tsireya’s lips curled as she bit into a piece of grilled fish, not because he was interested in her, but because he remembered the way you did that. The way you’d wrinkle your nose at certain spices. The way you’d hum without realizing it when food made you happy.

He leaned in and murmured something, making her laugh again. She was flattered — she thought he was just being sweet. He’d always been her best friend, like a big brother in a way. She assumed this was just him returning to who he was.

But Neteyam wasn’t who he was. Not anymore.

The longer the visit went on, the more attached he became. He walked with Tsireya to the reef where she helped tend to the clan’s younger swimmers, always a step too close. When she crouched to fix a child’s fins, he stood behind her, hand resting lightly on her shoulder. When she laughed, his eyes softened. When she smiled, his lips parted, as if a memory had just hit him like a wave.

And he didn’t even realize what he was doing.

Lo’ak noticed, though. He noticed everything. The way Neteyam always found a reason to pull Tsireya aside. The way he no longer sat by him at meals, how he had a hand on her arm, her waist, her shoulder, always.

Lo’ak watched his brother quietly spiral, swallowed by a grief he never named, and a need he didn’t understand.

And Neteyam?

Neteyam just kept seeing you.

Everywhere.

It started with subtle glances. The way Neteyam’s eyes lingered too long when Tsireya smiled. The way he’d fall silent mid-sentence just to watch her laugh. At first, no one said anything. Maybe they thought it was joy, the kind of light-heartedness that came with healing. Maybe they were just relieved to see him alive.

But it didn’t stop.

It got worse.

Neteyam followed her. Everywhere. If Tsireya helped prepare meals, he was beside her, his hands brushing hers when she reached for seaweed or fish. If she went to the shoreline to teach the younglings, he stood behind her, arms crossed, eyes never straying. When she turned, she always found him already watching.

It was obsessive, quiet and unspoken, but visible in every move.

When she sat, he sat behind her and pulled her between his legs like it was instinct. When she laughed, he laughed, even if he didn’t catch the joke. When she reached for something, his hand was already there. Too eager. Too close.

Tsireya didn’t question it.

Neteyam had always been kind, comforting. And she thought, maybe after what he went through, he just needed familiarity. He was her friend. Maybe he missed her.

But it wasn’t her he was seeing.

It was you.

Every movement, every look, every word she spoke it reminded him of you. But not in a nostalgic, gentle way. No, it consumed him. When she smiled, he swore his heart clenched. When she walked ahead of him, he blinked and saw you — your hair bouncing as you turned to grin at him. When she laughed, he imagined your voice beneath hers. It all blurred. Like a fever dream. Like he was drunk on a memory.

And his family began to notice.

Kiri watched him during dinner, chewing slowly, her brow furrowed. The way he always offered Tsireya food first. The way his arm always found its way around her back. The way he no longer looked at anyone else.

Tuk noticed too. She was too young to name it, but she stared a lot. Her big eyes darting between her big brother and Tsireya like she didn’t understand what she was seeing, but she saw the way he stared at her. Almost in the same way she noticed Lo’ak looks at her.

Neytiri, sitting near the hearth one evening, turned to Jake and whispered, “He’s holding on to something. Do you see it?”

Jake only nodded. His eldest son sat across from them, hands idly weaving another bracelet. Another one with strange knots and colors. Patterns he never used before. Patterns only you had taught him.

But it was Lo’ak who saw the most.

Because Tsireya was his.

He’d been so happy when Neteyam came home. He missed him more than words could carry. And for a while, everything felt whole again. But it cracked slowly — painfully — when he started seeing Neteyam reaching for Tsireya’s hand before he could. When Neteyam stood too close. Sat too close. Touched her hair without asking.

When Lo’ak came back from a dive one afternoon, dripping and breathless, he saw Neteyam laughing with Tsireya — his hands gently tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She smiled, oblivious.

Lo’ak stopped mid-step, staring.

Neteyam didn’t even notice him.

Didn’t see him.

That night, Lo’ak didn’t sleep. He lay on his side, staring at his brother’s back, the rise and fall of Neteyam’s breathing. And like every night since Neteyam came home, Lo’ak gently rested his forehead between his brother’s shoulder blades, listening to his heartbeat.

But that night, Neteyam’s heart was racing. Too fast.

Lo’ak whispered, “What’s going on with you, bro?” But Neteyam didn’t answer. He never answered.

The next day, Neteyam got quiet. Detached. Like he knew something was wrong and couldn’t explain it. He started singing softly while working, that same strange song again. The one no one recognized. Over and over. A lullaby. Your lullaby.

Neteyam’s affection for Tsireya was no longer subtle. His family had begun noticing it in clearer moments, when he wasn’t trying to appear collected. One afternoon, while Lo’ak was off gathering shellfish, Neteyam spotted Tsireya weaving fishing baskets with his sister and without hesitation, walked over, crouched beside her, and brushed her hair back from her cheek with a tenderness that startled even her. She smiled, unsure, assuming it was one of their old familiar gestures, but Kiri saw the look in Neteyam’s eyes, intense, distracted, reverent and felt something in her chest tighten.

During a communal meal, he asked Tsireya to sit next to him, again. When she hesitated, glancing between him and Lo’ak, Neteyam gently took her wrist and guided her down beside him, handing her a piece of roasted fruit with a soft smile. Neytiri watched silently from across the mat, her eyes narrowing just slightly.

Neteyam started making things for her. One evening, Kiri walked past him at the edge of the reef, where he sat alone, stringing a bracelet with the exact knot pattern you had taught him. But when Kiri asked who it was for, he tucked it behind his back and murmured, “No one. Just practice.” Hours later, it was braided into Tsireya’s hair.

Lo’ak tried to ignore it at first. Tried to explain it away, Neteyam was healing, disoriented, confused. But it kept happening. Neteyam started offering to escort Tsireya during her clan duties, would walk with her in silence, his gaze fixed forward, occasionally slipping his hand into hers like it was the most natural thing in the world. Once, when she stopped to fix her net, he sat behind her, wrapping his arms loosely around her waist while she worked. Lo’ak saw them. He didn’t say anything. Not yet.

The others noticed too. Aonung, usually quick to tease, grew quiet, throwing glances between Neteyam and Lo’ak with a furrowed brow. Kiri kept her distance, choosing silence over confrontation, though her gaze lingered on her older brother longer than usual, trying to decipher what had broken in him.

Neteyam was drifting. Delusional in a way he couldn’t admit to himself, not even when the truth pressed down like a wave about to pull him under.

He didn’t even see Tsireya anymore.

Not really.

Every time she laughed, it was your laugh he heard light, airy, wrapped in something only he had ever known. When her fingers brushed his, his skin prickled like yours had touched him instead, soft and certain, with that quiet boldness you always carried. Tsireya would smile up at him, wide-eyed and kind, and all he could think was there you are.

In the curve of Tsireya’s mouth, he saw the way you used to smirk at him when you knew he was watching you. In her eyes, he swore he caught the same stormy glint you’d get when you were teasing him or trying not to smile too wide. Her hair when it clung to her shoulders after a dive looked just like yours had that night when he kissed you in the kitchen, his hands in your wet hair, your mouth all heat.

It happened slowly, then all at once.

One morning, Tsireya handed him a fruit and her fingers grazed his palm, and he smiled—not at her, but at you. He looked right at her and called her by your name. Softly. Naturally. Like it was always meant to be that way.

She tilted her head, confused, but Neteyam didn’t notice, he didn’t even notice the way he brushed it off when she questioned it changing the subject to something that distracted her..

In his mind, you were smiling at him. You’d just brought him something to eat, you were laughing like you did when he stole bites from your fingers. You were standing right there in front of him, just like always.

When Tsireya asked him to help gather shells for the clan’s ritual, he agreed without hesitation, thinking it was you asking him to take a walk by the shoreline, to do something domestic and sweet and yours. He barely heard her voice anymore. His brain filtered it into something softer. Your tone. Your cadence.

At dinner, when everyone was seated and Lo’ak beckoned Tsireya to sit beside him, Neteyam’s hand was already tugging her wrist toward the spot next to him. He didn’t even glance at Lo’ak. His eyes were glued to her no, you like if he let go, you’d disappear all over again.

And when she settled beside him and laughed about something someone said, he turned to her and whispered, “You’re beautiful when you laugh like that.”

She blinked. “Neteyam?”

But he didn’t even hear the hesitation in her voice. He only saw the faint light on her cheeks, the way her hair swayed against her collarbone. He leaned in like it was natural. Like he’d done it a hundred times before. Because he had with you.

“You always do that,” he said, voice low, fond. “You tilt your head like that when you’re trying not to blush.”

Tsireya blinked again. “What?”

But Neteyam only smiled, thumb brushing the edge of her jaw gently. He was gone. Fully, entirely lost in you.

To him, this wasn’t Tsireya anymore.

It hadn’t been for days.

It was you, back from the cabin, here in front of him again. He didn’t realize how often he whispered your name. How his voice wrapped around it like a prayer. How his grip lingered too long, his eyes saw someone else, his heart responded to a ghost.

The only person who noticed the unraveling was Lo’ak.

He watched his brother sit beside his girlfriend like she belonged to him. Watched him touch her hair with a faraway look. Watched him smile at her like she held the entire sky in her hands—and not once, not once, did he call her by name.

Lo’ak’s chest tightened with dread. Because he didn’t know who this version of Neteyam was. And he was scared to find out what it would take to bring his brother back.

The tide was low and gentle that afternoon, the water pulling rhythmically at the sand with soft hushing sounds. Lo’ak was returning from a dive task, surfacing with a bundle of netted sea urchins slung over his shoulder, droplets dripping from his hair as he approached the shore.

That’s when he saw them.

Tsireya sat on a woven mat of dried reeds, a shallow basket resting between her crossed legs, her fingers nimbly sorting through small, polished shells and tiny coral pieces. And behind her—Neteyam. Legs outstretched on either side of her, his arms looped loosely around her shoulders, chin brushing the side of her head, body curved around hers like she belonged to him.

They were laughing.

Not loudly, just that shared, intimate kind of laughter between two people lost in each other’s orbit. Neteyam was murmuring something to her, soft and teasing, his voice low near her ear. She leaned her head back lightly against his chest and smiled, relaxed, content.

He plucked a shell from her hand, pretending to inspect it dramatically before holding it up in mock approval. “This one?” he asked, eyes on her. “Too pretty to be left alone.”

She giggled, reaching up to nudge his chin. “You’re not even helping.”

“I am,” he protested lightly, wrapping his arm more snugly around her. “I’m the emotional support.”

Lo’ak stood still, halfway between the ocean and the sand, saltwater still clinging to his skin. At first he thought maybe it was innocent. His brother and his girlfriend had always been close. But something was different now. Something in the way Neteyam held her like it was second nature. The way his fingers brushed hers when she reached into the basket. The way his gaze lingered on her smile a fraction too long. The way he looked at her like she was the only thing keeping him from falling apart.

It hit Lo’ak like a sucker punch.

Neteyam wasn’t looking at Tsireya like a friend.

He was looking at her like she was his.

Like she was someone he needed.

Lo’ak’s gut twisted. The weight of it made his chest feel tight. He watched for one more second, then turned sharply on his heel and stormed up the path, each step heavier than the last.

He couldn’t ignore it anymore. Tsireya was the love of his life, Neteyam knew that before he got shot.

Lo’ak stormed into the family mauri, chest heaving, dripping wet from the ocean, salt still clinging to his skin. The sack of gathered shells fell from his shoulder with a dull thump onto the floor. The sound made Neytiri’s head snap up from where she was weaving. Jake looked up from carving a small piece of driftwood, and Kiri paused, hand midair with her gathering bowl.

He stood there, fists balled at his sides, trying to keep it in, but it spilled out anyway.

“I can’t keep watching this.”

Jake frowned. “What happened?”

Lo’ak didn’t answer right away. He stepped deeper into the room, rubbing his hand over his face like he couldn’t believe what he saw.

“I went to the reef after the storm. I was helping gather shell bundles the current dragged out…” His voice was unsteady. “And I saw them.”

“Who?” Kiri asked softly.

“Neteyam. Tsireya.”

Neytiri’s hands went still in her lap.

Lo’ak scoffed, a bitter sound. “He had her between his legs. They were sitting in the sand like they do it every fucking day, his arms around her, helping her sort through little fucking shells, whispering to her. She was laughing. Leaning back against him like they were… like they were together.”

Jake’s expression tightened.

Lo’ak’s voice cracked. “He never looked at her like that. Never. Before he—before the ship, before everything—he- she was his friend, his best friend.. She was mine. I brought her into our family, I brought her home, and not him…”

He shook his head like it physically hurt. “Now he won’t leave her side. He follows her when she walks. He sits next to her at every meal. He touches her shoulder when he talks. He’s always smiling at her. I can’t even get a minute alone with my own girlfriend. He just pops up out of fucking no where and takes her away casually.”

He looked between them, desperate. “Why is he doing this?”

Kiri’s brow furrowed. “Maybe he’s trying to reconnect—”

“No,” Lo’ak snapped. “This isn’t about reconnecting. He’s obsessed. He acts like he’s known her forever. Like he sees something else when he looks at her.”

Neytiri stood, slowly approaching him. “Lo’ak, your brother went through something we don’t understand. He almost died. Maybe he’s not—”

“He’s not right,” Lo’ak whispered, his voice breaking. “He’s not who he was. He looks at her like he loves her, he looks at her the way I look at her, but I swear to Eywa, he doesn’t even see her. It’s like he sees someone else in her face. Like he’s talking to a ghost.”

The silence that followed was heavier than the storm that had passed that morning.

Jake’s jaw was tight. Kiri looked away, worried and thoughtful. And Neytiri, heart aching, placed a hand on Lo’ak’s shoulder.

But Lo’ak just looked at the fire, eyes flickering.

“I don’t know who my brother is anymore,” he said. “And I don’t think he does either.”

Jake’s jaw was tight, his hands clasped together as he leaned forward. “We need to figure this out,” he said, voice low and tense. “This isn’t just about him acting strange—he’s not here. He’s somewhere else in his head.”

“He’s obsessed more like it, with My tsireya.” Lo’ak muttered, still fuming, pacing with his arms folded.

Kiri watched him, eyes sharp with worry. “He is. I think there was someone else… when he was gone. That’s why he’s not himself. He left part of himself behind—maybe with her.”

Neytiri, quiet until now, looked toward the entrance of the mauri. “Then we need to draw it out of him gently. He won’t talk if he feels cornered.”

Jake gave a slow nod. “So, here’s what we do—we keep him close. Watch. Ask things that sound innocent, things that might slip past his defenses. Especially things about where he was, how he survived.”

“We bring Tsireya around less,” Kiri added. “Maybe if he’s seeing someone else in her, maybe distance will help him see clearly.”

Lo’ak’s shoulders dropped slightly. “And if he doesn’t come around?”

Jake looked at his son, his voice firm but calm. “Then we help him remember who he is. Even if it means dragging it out of him piece by piece.”

Neytiri nodded. “Together.”

They all sat in the quiet a moment longer, the hum of the ocean beyond their walls steady waiting. Watching. Planning.

Because something was broken inside Neteyam… and they couldn’t ignore it any longer.

“Neteyam is scary bro… no way this works. I think he’ll lash out if you take tsireya away from him, even if it’d slowly. He’s like her shadow. He’ll notice.” Lo’ak says after a beat of silence.

“Your right but Neteyam would never hurt us” Kiri went on looking between them. “But we’ve seen what he can do, we all know what he is capable off.”

“Like when that shoulder knocked spider over?” Lo’ak added. “Neteyam practically tore him apart. He didn’t even blink.”

Jake exhales through his nose, he was the reason Neteyam was so highly trained. “He’s trained to end threats, not negotiate with them.”

“We are assuming here from Lo’ak’s description that he’s seeing someone else. The. He is right. What if he snaps?”

Silence.

It was Lo’ak, surprisingly, who voice the next idea, “what if we do the opposite?” Everyone looked at him. “What if we use Tsireya? Not as bait but as a way in, maybe he’ll open up and talk to her.”

Kiri frowned, “he is not going to admit anything. Assuming he doesn’t know he’s doing it.”

“But maybe she can lead him there,” Jake said, catching on. “If we prep her, really explain what we think is going on, she could ease it out of him, ask the right questions.”

Neytiri’s frown depends, “you are assuming she’ll even believe us. My son is leveled headed in any situation. Everyone knows that. Why would she believe that Neteyam if all people is delusional and seeing someone else if her eyes?”

Sure enough the next morning they gentle pulled tsireya aside and say her down explaining what they thought might be going on with Neteyam. They explained they thought he was lost, fantasizing about someone else. And she blinked, wide-eyed and confused.

She shook her head genuinely puzzled. “But…he’s not in love with me. He never was. I am with you Lo’ak. And now he’s just… sweet. Clingy, yes, but…not delusional.

Jake stepped in, “we think that it’s not you he’s seeing tsireya. We don’t have another explanation for why he’d act like this out of nowhere.”

Lo’ak’s voice was tight, more hit than angry now. “You’re not who he thinks you are. But if you talk to him, if you help him open up about what happened when he wasn’t here. When he was healing that gunshot wound that should have killed him. He’ll go back to being your friend. My brother.”

She was quiet for a long time but ultimately decided to help. “What do I even ask him?”

The truth was, they were all worried this could go wrong. Neteyam was a weapon forged in war. But he was also a son, and a brother, a friend. And he was loved, they cared.

It was nearing twilight when Tsireya entered the Sully family mauri, soft-voiced and tentative. The air inside was still, heavy with the scent of the ocean and herbal smoke. Jake sat cross-legged near the fire pit, feigning focus on carving. Neytiri was sorting through drying herbs. Kiri shelled seeds in the corner. Lo’ak had returned from his task not long before and stood off to the side, jaw tight, watching.

Neteyam was sitting on his sleeping mat, hair tied back loosely, a bracelet half-finished in his lap. His expression shifted the moment he saw Tsireya — softened, lit with affection. “Hey,” he murmured. “Come sit with me.”

She did, settling cross-legged beside him, close as always. She gave a polite nod to the rest of his family, then turned to him. “I wanted to ask you something.”

Neteyam nodded, relaxed. “Anything.”

“Do you remember the first time you woke up? After you got hurt?” she asked, gently.

His gaze shifted to look at her for a second, “of course I do. I remember everything.you were there.”

Tsireya hesitated, “what was I doing?”

Neteyam chuckled, “she- you stitched me up and stopped the bleeding then put me on your couch to sleep and I woke up after a while and you were asleep in the couch right in front of me. You remember…. I had threatened to stab you I thought I was captured by the RDA. But I wasn’t it was just you and me in the cabin.”

They all heard it, ‘She’ they were right.

Jake subtly looked up. Kiri had stopped shelling seeds, Neytiri’s hands slowed and Lo’ak rubbed his hands over his face.

“And….the song?” Tsireya continued carefully, “what song did I sing?”

“You know it?” He said quickly. “You turned on the radio in the windowsill, you sang the words so much I memorized it, you said it was one of your favorite songs, it was…. we danced in the kitchen.”

He looked at her with pure devotion.

His family was reeling. They didn’t know what to think.

“And the brackets,” she went on, “when did you learn to make those?”

He smiled. “You taught me, my second week. We sat outside in the grass, and you taught me. Made me promise one day I’d teach someone else the patterns, so they’ll stay alive?”

His face dropped a little.

Kiri’s brow pulled together.

Lo’ak had stood up, taking a step then back.

Tsireya whispered, “and…where are we right now?”

Neteyam blinked.

“You and me” she clarified. “Where are we?”

He looked around at the mauri, his family seated around, and for a second his face twisted in confusion, “we are in my family home. It is not the forest though.”

He knew where he was, they noted.

Tsireya swallowed. “Neteyam… do you see me?”

He stared at her confused, “of course I see you.”

“No.” She pressed, voice breaking a little. “Do you see…me? Not the woman you spent time within the cabin, not who saved your life. Do you see me Neteyam?”

He frowned, visibly disturbed, “why are you talking like this? Why are you pretending?” His voice was strained now, shaken. “Why are you pretending it wasn’t you who saved me? You are. You kept me alive. You were there.”

The room held its breath.

Tsireya didn’t respond.

Neteyam reached for her hand, gripping it tightly. “why are you doing this to me? Don’t you remember? The cabin on the cliff, nice open yard space, private garden where you grow fruits and vegetables to cook and eat. The..porch swing? How could you forget?”

Tsireya’s breath hitched, her voice nearly there. “I wasn’t there.”

He froze.

Slowly her grip on his hands tightened. “That wasn’t me, Neteyam.”

The world around him tilted. His moth hoarded, but no sound came out yet.

“Why are you saying this? All of this happened, and so much more.” He stressed, “and then I brought you here. Home! To my family, I- you….you had dinner and my parents, my brother, my sisters they like you!”

His eyes dart around to his family.

Kiri stood up, Jake stepped forward, face tense calm, but wary, “son—”

“No! Dad! Don’t you like her? Isn’t she amazing? She saved my life she… for once I didn’t have to…she took care of me!” Neteyam’s voice was getting louder.

He let go of her hands and stood up fast, the sleeping mat shifted under his feet. “No. No, no, no, don’t do think. Why are you all doing this?”

“My son, you are not well,” Neytiri said softly.

“I am fine,” he snapped, “she just… she’s confused, why are you confusing her?”

Tsireya stood up her hands on his shoulder as he tried to calm him. “Neteyam please—”

His eyes dart from here to everyone else. “Why are you all acting like she isn’t here? She is here! She was there! She saved me!”

Lo’ak stepped forward, “you're not talking to her. You think you are but yours not.” He tried to be as gentle as possible.

Neteyam turned to him trembling, breathing shallow.

“I don’t know who yours seeing, I don’t know who you think is here brother. But it’s not Tsireya.”

“Tsireya? I don’t want Tsireya she’s your girlfriend bro, what are you saying?”

“Neteyam.” Lo’ak walked up to him holding his shoulders as he spoke again, “look at her.” Neteyam eyes darted unsure. What were they saying to him. “Look at her.” He repeated and he did. He looked at her. He saw you he still saw you and he was about to protest but then he saw it. A flicker of blue where your golden eyes were and it changed. Straight hair to curly, lighter skin, thick arms, legs, tail. He said tsireya.

He stumbled back abruptly, almost tripping over his own feet. His hand push Lo’ak away and he rubbed them over his face. He shut his eyes and open them, and you were gone.

“No, no… this isn’t…” he whispered. The memory of you flickering like flame behind his eyes, “where did you go?” He asked the air. “Where did… what the fuck!”

“I’m not crazy I swear I’m not crazy, you’re- she’s real! Mom! She’s real!” He was practically shouting now.

“She saved me life when you all left to get Kiri and tuk off that ship! You thought I died you left! She came up from the ocean and saw me! Saw life in me and she saved me! Stopped the bleeding and stitched it up so I could wake up! She…she cooked and helped me regain strength; she was peaceful. So peaceful and I- she… I brought her home..” he whispered the last part.

Neytiri with tears in her eyes walked up to her son, “I believe you, calm down—”

“Calm down? I- where is she!?”

Jake quick on his feet, held onto his son to ground him. “Hey, hey, hey. Look at me boy.”

Neteyam listened, still panting.

“What’s her name?”

“…y/n”

He knows now, you were not here. You were never here. Did he really leave you in the cabin. Eywa, he wishes he didn’t. He couldn’t leave everything behind. He wanted you to come. Why didn’t he ask you to come?

“How much time passed since I came back here?”

“Almost two months son” Neytiri answered.

Two months. Two whole months you’ve been alone while he’d been delusional and in love with you to the point where he imagined you in another person. Why did he leave you there? The question echoed. What was his excuse. You didn’t mean nothing. You meant everything.

Neteyam bolted outside, his family confused followed him watching him call his ikran and bond quickly shooting into the sky. His mother didn’t let him get far before she called her own and they all followed. Tsireya riding with Lo’ak followed Neteyam into the sky.

“Neteyam!” Jake’s voice cracked through the air.

“Bro, STOP!” Lo’ak yelled, desperately chasing the blur of blue and war paint ahead.

But Neteyam didn’t hear them.

Or rather, he did, but it didn’t matter.

He couldn’t stop. Not now. He knew where he was going. The wind stung his face; his eyes burned with salt and memory. He gripped Seze tighter, as if she could sense the ache in his soul. And maybe she could. She flew harder, faster.

His shoulders trembled. His mind replayed the look on your face when you first reached for him that night in the cabin. How you pressed a cloth to his wound. The warmth of your hands. The quiet strength in your voice.

“You’re safe.”

He let out a low, broken sound, part gasp, part cry.

He had to find you. He needed you.

Behind him, the Sullys followed in silence. Watching him, helpless and afraid. Jake’s jaw clenched. Neytiri’s heart raced with mother’s dread. Lo’ak… Lo’ak couldn’t even feel angry anymore.

“He’s not stopping,” Kiri murmured.

“No,” Jake said grimly, eyes locked on his son. “He’s not.”

The wind howled around them as they cut through the sky, chasing after Neteyam, who chased the only piece of peace he had left. You.

The cliff winds howled around him as Seze descended sharply, banking with precision toward the narrow ledge beside the cabin tucked into the trees. The ocean stretched wide and wild below, waves crashing violently against the cliff, but Neteyam didn’t hear them. All he could hear was the hammering of his heart and the blood rushing in his ears.

The cabin stood where it always had, carved partially into the stone, half wood and half earth, smoke curling faintly from the chimney. That meant someone was here.

That meant you were here.

His eyes dart around sharply looking for you and he saw you. Sitting in the porch swing cleaning some fruits from a basket you had on the table next to you.

Neteyam bolted. Ran as fast as he could to get to you. When you didn’t see him and look up your thought you were dreaming. ‘He came back?’

You stood up slowly and he didn’t slow down, he didn’t stop. He just crashed into you, arms wrapping around you like you were the most importantly thing in the world.

He was much stronger than when he had left. You almost lost track of time, it had been…nearly two months since the last time you saw him. He was leaner, more muscular, his hair was braided again. “Neteyam…” you whisper into his chest.

Your hands had slowly wrapped around his back molding into him like you did a million times before.

“I thought I…I thought I imagined you. Eywa you’re real.”

He pulled back and held you face in his hands, stroking your cheek idly, “of course I am real.” Your hand went up to rest on his. He was about to pull you in for a kiss but was stopped.

“Neteyam.” He knew that voice, his mother’s sharp tone cut through the air.

Neteyam didn’t let you go; he pulled you back to his body shielding you from them. His mother stalked towards them, her knife held in her hand, he knew if she got the opportunity she’d strike.

His father, brother and sister were behind her moments after. The tension was thick even though they were several paces behind his mother. Lo’ak watched in dread, holding tsireya’s hand to keep her close to him. Kiri furrowed her eyebrows. And Jake stood, jaw clenched.

Your eyes darted from his mother to his father, then his siblings. You had no idea who they were. He didn’t talk about them. You didn’t ask but you just knew in your gut. They were his family.

His mother’s voice was low and furious, “she’s one of them Neteyam.”

“She is not,” he snapped, still holding you close, “she saved me.”

“We thought you were dead. You vanished. For weeks!”

“She found me bleeding on that rock.” He yelled, voice cracking. “I wouldn’t died if not for her. She stayed, she cared for me. She—”

He looked down at you again his hands bringing you impossibly closer. His breathing hitched, “she never left.”

Neytiri turned to you. Her eyes were sharp, untrusting, like a blade drown just before it strikes. “Why?” She asked, voice low and hard, “why help him? Why hide him? Why not bring him back to us?” Her voice got louder, more strained.

You opened your mouth be no words came, before it could, Neteyam a stepped in again, more desperate now. “She didn’t know who I was. I threatened to kill her the first night—had a knife pointed at her. And still…she took care of me. She didn’t even know my name! She just…helped.

His mother’s lips pressed into a tight line. Her stare hadn’t heft you. Every instinct in her screamed danger, this was no ordinary woman. You were from the RDA, an avatar. And her son had chased hallways across the sky to fall into your arms like a wounded child seeking home.

Lo’ak broke the silence with a step forward, “so what now?” His voice was low and heavy. “We just…leave him here?”

Jake placed a hand on his shoulder, steadying him.

Kiri whispered, “he is not the same. You saw him these past weeks… he wasn’t himself without her.”

Still his mother didn’t back down, “that does not make her safe.”

But Neteyam turned back towards her, tears barely held back, “she is. She is the only reason I am alive, the reason I’m standing here. Please, sa’nok.”

For the first time in her life, Neytiri hesitated.

She saw her son not as the warrior, but as the boy, fractured and trembling. She looked again at you, not as a soldier, but as someone holding him like he mattered.

She didn’t lower her guard. Not yet. But she took one step back.

Jake’s voice finally broke in, loud and firm. “Alright enough! You will tell us everything! And I mean everything boy. Right now.”

Neteyam sat bringing your body down with his. Held you close legs wrapped around you as if to crest a barrier between you and everyone else. Jake walked to Neytiri and took her knife sitting her down gently and sat next to her, Kiri and Lo’ak on the other side of him and tsireya slightly behind Lo’ak.

“What happened brother?” Kiri asked him softly.

He looked at her before his eyes dart to his parents then brother, “the day I got shot on the rock, I didn’t die. I’m sure you all thought so but I didn’t. She was in the ship and swan up, only noticed me on the rock after.”

“I noticed he was alive and I… couldn’t just let him die” you finally spoke. You sat up as straight as you could since it was clear Neteyam wasn’t about to let you go.

“I brought him here because I didn’t have anything on me out there to help him. He was unconscious and he felt until almost the next day, when he woke up naturally, he had questions. Threatened to stab me, when he found out I was RDA he tried to leave but his injury was severe, he couldn’t even walk.” You explain softly.

The next few days I didn’t trust her, I didn’t even want her help, but she stayed with me all night in the couch since I couldn’t go anyways her else. Helped me clean up the dry blood if my skin in places I couldn’t reach. She cooked and fed me, helped me regain my strength.” Neteyam said softly.

“And I thought about you all… everyday. But I was in no condition to travel, and I couldn’t make her take me home. For her to fly in there and get an arrow to the chest? She’s the reason I’m alive, she… I...” he couldn’t find the words.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Jake asked.

“I didn’t know how’d you would all react to this. It’s not that I wanted to keep it from you. It’s more I didn’t want you to think that she is a bad person because of where she comes from. Dad she…didn’t even know my name.. if she had some alternative agenda I would have been in a jail cell of dead. Not here.” He gestured to the cabin.

“We bonded over music and stars, we didn’t talk about the past or the RDA we were just in the moment, I didn’t have to worry, I wasn’t on guard for the first time in years, I relaxed.” He continued.

Jake exhaled through his nose and rubbed the bridge of it, his elbow propped on his knee. “So l-let me get this straight,” he said slowly, glancing between the two of you. “You were out here. With her. For over a month. And you didn’t think to send word back to us?”

“What was I supposed to do dad? Send a carrier pigeon? A text? Say ‘hey dad I’m alive, this pretty girl from the RDA saved me and now I’m living in a cabin in a cliff I’ll be back in a couple weeks.’”

Lo’ak snorted and Kiri covered her mouth to stop from laughing. Neytiri let out a hiss and Jake raises a hand, “don’t sass me boy. You can see where I might have issues understanding this situation.”

The words hung in the air like a storm cloud.

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[m1tsu-ki]

OMG GIRLIE FINALLY UPDATED AND AGAIN THE PACING IS 🤌🏼🤌🏼

The Selection

Chapter 2

Paring: Neteyam x Fem!Tawakmi!Reader

Warning: explicit language, mentions of injury and lots of blood. (Please be aware of you are trigger by those types of things)

Word Count: 3.1k

Disclaimer: All my characters are aged up! If that bothers you, feel free to scroll and do no interact with my account or any of my post. Index: mawey - calm

~ Hi everyone! I know it’s been a minute but I’m back with my second chapter! I’m in uni and it’s kind of difficult to manage both my degree and this but I am very passionate about writing and if I disappear I promise I will always comeback! No worries but I do appreciate your patience on this so so so much n I love you all!

Series M.List | Main M.List

It has been a week, an entire week at the Omatikaya clan. Your hair was not having it, everyday you would wake up extra early jus to make yourself look presentable and not a frizzy mess. You would call your mother everyday while you did this and talk about the day before and all your activities.

For the pass week they had you all settle in properly and get a layout of the clan, which for lack of better words, was incredibly beautiful. You had met some hardheaded chicks who were clearly sour about the fact they no longer had the chance to wow Neteyam, not that it worked out for them before otherwise why would they have held this competition in the first place? But everyone was mostly kind, it truly would be an amazing clan to be apart of if Neteyam choose you.

Today was different though, today you all got the chance to leave the clan and go on a hunting trip, it was only a few hours and close to the clan considering none of you knew the terrain. But other experienced omatikayan hunters which included Neteyam and Lo’ak would be accompanying you. The clan was not in dire need of meat otherwise why would they choose now to take you. Considering not all the girls were hunters they figured they wouldn’t come back as much. You’d finally get to explore the forest up close, to say you were excited was an understatement.

To keep the hair out of your face you braided it in the omatikayan style, thanks to Kiri, and it fell beautifully down your back, because of how full naturally curly hair was, the braids looked full as well. You dressed in a simple halter style baby blue top that held your chest properly for all the activities you’d be doing today and a loincloth to match, not that you cared to much, but it definitely enhanced your curves a bit.

You walked down the stairs following Ni’alu who wore a cute green top and loincloth, it was causal Ike your choice of wear. The other two girls, along with Neteyam, Lo’ak and their parents were waiting for you both. "Finally, we have been waiting forever!" Ma’via said in a sharp tone, “we are going hunting there is no need to get all dressed up” Lei’wa added.

“We look less dressed up than you, and maybe you should worry a little less about us and a little more on your hunting skills” you smile sarcastically at them both. Lo’ak turned his head and covered his mouth to stop from laughing, but Neteyam like his mother did a much better job at keeping composure. Neytiri who decided it was enough banter ushered us all out out the hut to go on the hunting trip. It was sunny out but still a bit cold since it was so early in the morning, so you wrapped your arms around yourself.

“Maybe I should have dressed warmer” you laugh softly and Ni’alu joined in knowing exactly what you meant. “Do not worry ladies, when you start tracking, you’ll feel much warmer.” Lo’ak who overheard us butted in.

We started our journey into the dense forest that seemed to have no path but the omatikayan knew the terrain so well, navigating was not a difficult task. Neteyam and lo’ak introduced us to another man who hunted with them for the clan, just to have an extra set of hands and protection. His name was Ralu, he was tall like Neteyam but built more slim, his hair sported short braids.

The three men decided amongst themselves to split us up into groups in hopes of handling the terrain better. Neteyam took Ni’alu, Lo’ak settled for Lei’wa and Ralu was left with you and Ma’via. It was not a secret that the other girls including you, were sour about the fact that Ni’alu got to go with Neteyam, but we all split up into our assigned groups

As the hours passed, it became easier to make it through the forest. It was just as dense if not more, but it was equally as beautiful. It had just as much green as your own forest back at home, but you could clearly see the difference in diversity. The sun was close to setting through out our entire day of tracking we never actually came across an animal. You wondered if the other groups were having such bad luck. You weren’t mad about it though, you did enjoy getting to explore the forest.

“You know it’s impressive how well you’re keeping up, considering how you’ve never done this before” Ma’via said over her shoulder to you. “Never done what before?” you respond not knowing what she was implying. “Oh, you know, hunting, tracking like this in the forest, I’m sure being a performer and all you’d never want to do this type of stuff.”

“I’ve tracked before. I’ll manage” you say as you move a big leaf to walk on the path. Ralu who walked in front of us did not speak much just quietly lead us through the terrain. “Well see how long that last, tracking is not as easy as you think.” She says in an undermining tone. “You know you’re right; tracking isn’t easy. I guess that’s why only one of us will be able to keep up” you reply dearly challenging her in a calm way.

Your response seemed to have shut her up for a while, whether it’s because your words got to her, or she just couldn’t think of anything to say, you weren’t sure. But it didn’t take long for her to start testing your patience again, “woah did you see that?!’ she exclaimed, I raised my head to see what caught her interest.

“What? See what?” you start looking around in the direction she was facing. “I don’t see anything" you say as your eyes dart around the area. "Something just moved over there,” she pointed in the direction we were already looking but you saw no movement. “We should check it out” Ma’via suggested.

“I don’t see anything, we shouldn't stray from the path anyways, Ralu mentioned earlier we might be getting close to so actual prey” you told her, but she was already in her own head and didn’t hear a word you said, either that or she just ignored you. Your eyes dart from her form that was slowly straying and the leaf that Ralu just moved to continue on the path, disappearing behind it. You wanted to call out to him, but you had doubts, what if she did see something and your raised voice agitated it? Or what you scared away any close prey?

You groaned softly before following Ma’via on her side quest. “Ma’via, we should go back to the-” she suddenly cut off your sentence with a firm shush and you rolled your eyes. Your ears twitched softly against your braids trying to hear anything other than the rustling of leaves in the wind. Then you heard it, a low growl coming from some where in your vicinity. You weren’t exactly sure where and you briefly turned to Ma’via who had the same idea and you both made eye contact. You both silently agreed you heard it and your eyes dart back to the path hoping to see some sliver of Ralu.

Ma’via reached for her knife that was tucked away on her hip and you did the same simultaneously. Your eyes dart around nervously and your ears strained and twitched to hear any sound at all from the creature. You knew that neither of you were a match for one of the Omatikayan's forest creatures, especially since neither of you had any idea what it could possibly be. “I told you, I knew it was worth it,” she says, glancing over her shoulder.

You force a tight smile, your hand instinctively tightening around the hilt of your knife. “I didn’t know we were hunting for danger.” Before she can respond, the growl comes again, louder this time. Low, menacing, and close. Her expression falters. “I think it’s getting closer”

“I’m starting to think it’s not something we want to find out.” Your voice is steady, though the hairs on your neck stand on end. She brushes it off, clearly playing tough. “It’s probably just an animal. We’re fine.” But you feel the weight of the silence that follows the growl, something in the air shifting. Then, another growl—closer this time. Your voice firm as you take a step back. “That’s no animal I want to meet.”

Before she could say anything, a massive black creature pounces out of hiding, a palulukan. You’ve heard they inhabit this part of the forest, but you had never seen one in real life before they were incredibly terrifying up close, with their shape teeth and the way it menacingly blended into the surroundings. You take another step back, the creature looked as if it were readying itself to strike. Before you could get a word out to Ma’via the palulukan charged towards you and you instinctively jumped to the side landing on your stomach.

Ma’via however, was not so quick. The creature knocked her to the ground with terrifying force as she used both her hands to keep it from biting her face off. She let out a loud scream which only seemed to infuriate the creature even more. Before your mind could catch up with your body, in a blur of motion, you launched yourself at the creature showing it of her with your body weight.

You hit the ground so hard it sends you rolling tangled with the palulukan. Your fingers that still gripping the knife jammed it into the tough skin of the creature's side. Quickly you repeated the action as fast as you could until the creature was lifeless. Now that you could catch your breath, you noticed all the blood that oozed from the creature that was at least 3 times bigger than you.

The creature's body lies still, the only sound your labored breaths You sit up scanning for any more threats. Ma’via is still on the ground, her wide eyes fixed on you, too stunned to speak. For a moment, there’s only silence, the forest holding its breath. “Are you okay?’ you ask her.

Then, she blinks rapidly, as if trying to shake herself free from the shock. Slowly, she pushed herself up, her hands trembling slightly as she brushes the dirt off her legs. Her gaze flickers to the beast’s lifeless form, then back to you.

She looks away quickly, brushing dirt off her arm as if it’s nothing “you can handle yourself, I’ll give you that. But don’t think this changes anything. You’re still not getting Neteyam." Her voice was firmer again, her pride dearly intact, but something about her stance, the way she avoids meeting your eyes, suggests the guard she’s trying put up isn’t as strong as it used to be. You just rolled your eyes, “your welcome”

The sun had already set at this point and you both had no idea where you were, or how to get back to the clan. Everything looked different, every plant and flower, even some insects glowed beautifully in the night sky, like the stars somehow reflected down onto the forest. You couldn’t even find the path and back track as nothing looked even a little bit familiar, maybe it was because you felt distracted, adventure of being lost still pumped through your veins, you had no idea how you planned on making it through the night.

Ma’via sighed, “great, just great were lost. This is pointless" you roll your eyes scanning the area, “we just need to retrace our steps” you said quiet enough to not attract attention but loud enough she could hear you. Ma’via scoffs, “right because that’s so easy in the glowing forest when everything looks the same and different at the same time.”

You sigh, bringing your hands up to rub your face but quickly dropping them after you remember the blood they are still stained with, “look, arguing isn’t gonna help. We need to move before something else tries to eat us, at least find shelter and somewhere to clean up and keep warm.” Ma’via huffs but doesn’t argue, “fine, but don’t slow me down.”

You give her a dry look, “right cause I was the one getting attacked by a predator." She glares at you but doesn’t have comeback. Instead, she gestures ahead, "whatever, let’s just go.”

After what feels like hours of walking, the round of trickling water reaches your ears. You push past the glowing foliage, stepping into a small clearing where a narrow stream winds through the fore its surface shimmering under the bioluminescent light. Ma’via sighs in relief, "finally. Something useful” she kneels at the water’s edge, cupping a handful to drink.

You scan the area before crouching beside her, dipping your fingers into the cool stream. “We should stop here for a bit. Rest, start a fire.”

She hesitates before nodding, “yeah…. I gross that’s smart.” There was no biting remark, no smugness. Just agreement. You gather some dry wood while she arranges the stones, and soon, the flickering orange glow of the fire dances against your skin, a contrast to the cool blue hues of the forest. For a moment, it almost feels peaceful.

But then, a rustle in the underbrush. Ma’via stiffens, eyes darting in the dance direction as yours, towards the trees, “…did you hear that?”

Another rustle. Then, a low growl.

Not this again.

“Please tell me that was your stomach” you say without looking away from where the growl and rustling was coming from.

Ma’via shoots you a sharp look. “Do I look like I just swallowed a hexapede whole?” the underbrush shifts again, the sound closer this time. You pick up a long branch from the floor gripping it tightly in your hands as you slowly rise to your feet, “I was hoping for a yes”

Your relentless rival follows suit, her posture tense. “It’s probably just-” A deep snarl cuts her off then from the shadows, something moves. The growl deepened, it multiplied, there was more than one creature, they blended in so well you couldn’t see them.

The sounds vibrated through the air, the glowing foliage trembles as something stalks just beyond the fire’s light. You grip the branch tighter, shifting your stance. “More than one, and whatever they are, it’s getting closer”

You take a deep breath as your so-called competition says, “we can handle it, we did it before” you could hear the uncertainty is her voice, “you mean I, have done this before”

"Whatever, you really wanna show off now?!” she exclaims, and you roll your eyes. You know she doesn’t feel very confident right now and you don’t blame her.

The creature lunges and swiftly you swat the small, 6-legged creature away with the branch, it made a small whimper as it hit a nearby tree. Although before you could catch your breath, another creature attacked, jumping directly on you, you fell to the ground before you could retaliate.

The creature scratched and bit at your leg making you scream out in pain, at that point you didn’t care what you attracted, you wanted this thing off you. Ma’via swift kicked it off you and kneeled down by your body, now, you finally saw some hunter instinct in her. As the creature lunged back at her she donged, sending it flying behind her protecting your crying form beneath her.

She stabbed it as it came back killing it, “are you okay?!” her voice was panicked. “Do I fucking look okay Ma’via?!” you cry out holding the top of your thigh. She was about to an over, but the growls turned to snarls, nasty, scary snarls. Our eyes darted around us to see an entire pack of the creature circling, ready to pounce at any moment.

Just as a creature tense to pounce-

THWIP!

An arrow whips through the air piercing the creature mid leap. You barely register the blur of movement before Neteyam steps from the trees, bow drawn, another arrow already nocked. His golden eyes flick between the two of you, sharp with relief before it darts back up hitting another creature who lunged in our direction.

Ma’via and I stayed shocked on the ground and eternally grateful Eywa lead Neteyam to us when she did. Before he could pull another arrow, one of the creatures lunged at him, neteyam swung his bow swatting the creature away. He fired another arrow forcing the creatures back. Neteyam hisses, low and sharp at the creatures, it was loud and powerful, a clear warning to the pack to back off. Hesitating, the creatures slinked back into the darkness.

Neteyam kneels down on the other side of you instantly, cars flattening as he sees your tears, his brow forgotten as his hands hovered over you, “hey, hey, I’ve got you. Just breath” his voice was steady, but the worry was evident. His fingers gently grazed your high before hesitating afraid to hurt you more. “I’ll take care of you, I promise."

Your gasps become unsteady, and he cups your cheeks in an effort to calm you down, “Mawey, you are safe now.” He reassures me.

Ma’via steps closer, her usual arrogance gone. “She’s bleeding a lot.” He voice tight with worry, “it all happened so fast, I-I, is she going to be okay?” neteyam glanced up at her, his expression unreadable for a moment before he nods, “she’ll be fine, but we have to get her back. Now.” He assures her but his tone was serious.

He doesn’t waste another second. Carefully, he slides one arm beneath your knees and the other under your back. “This is going to hurt,” he warns gently. Then with effortless strength, he lifts you into his arms. You grip his shoulder, wincing with a cry of pain but he holds you securely, his warmth steady against you.

Ma’via quickly falls into step with him making sure to stay close. Your head rocked back as you started to feel lightheaded. Neteyam pulls you up slightly so your head rest on his shoulder. “We’re almost there, stay with me” he says. You try to respond, but your body feels heavy, the pain in your leg throbs, a dull, dragging weight, and your eyelids flutter.

The forest lights start to blur together and fade. In your weekend state, his scent and warmth wrapped around you like a blanket and the last thing you hear is Neteyam's voice, lower now, urgent but still impossibly gentle. “I’ve got you.” before everything, went black.

🪸I again want to thank you for your patience in this wait for this new chapter and I promise more to come! I love you all and I promise to try harder to push out more work cause I have so many ideas for stories that I must get out of my mind! Please any feedback are welcomed and appreciated along with any idea you guys think I should put into the storyline! Reblogs, likes and comments are always appreciated and welcome!

Taglist: 

@rivatar @delusionalwh6re @strongheartneteyam @xylianasblog @nilahsstuff @inlovewithpandora @neteyamsoare @m1tsu-ki @xrollingmyeyesx @goofygremlin123 @quicktosimp @r11k4 @its-jennarose @anonymuslydumb @winterhi09 @teymars @kylimarz @jakesullyfatjuicypeen @unholycheesesnack @pandoraslxna @pandorxxx @majestickitty @plantgirliewholovespandora @thisaintredwine @kodzuminx @avatarobsessedgirly @kdacase @dayyzlol @beautifulglitterwombat @finnickswifeeee @shikiinkm @spideyweirdo @bakugoswaif @angelita-uchiha @wawauwe @himikoquack @inutheangel

[m1tsu-ki]

Nwheehehhheehehhhehehehehehehehehehehehehhee💍

Swimming Lesson (A Precious One Shot)

Pairing: Adult Ao'nung x Hyperfeminine human reader

Summary: Ao'nung is more than eager to teach you how to swim. He doesn't, however, anticipate what it leads to.

Warnings: aged up characters, explicit sexual content MDNI, reader has mild fear of water, interspecies relationship, established relationship, swearing, possessive beahvior, brief mention of violence, past bad relationship, insecurity, marking, scenting, dom/sub dynamics, etc.

A/N: I've been overthinkg this one for way too long. Here's how it turned out

Precious Masterlist

Adult Ao'nung photo by Cinetrix

Tawtute modesty is a perplexing concept. Most Sky People dress in a way that covers their body, even going as far as creating cubbies in their metal homes where they can change these clothes without others seeing. For a species that appears to have just as much sexual drive as Na’vi do, they certainly waste a lot of time and effort acting ashamed of their bodies. 

Although your clothing is far more appealing, and even revealing at times, you too act very shy about being exposed. 

And yet, it appears that this cultural norm is thrown out the window when it comes to swimming attire. Calling an outfit a swimsuit as you do, suddenly gives a tawtute a free pass to discard ninety five percent of their clothing and prance around without care. 

No one had informed Ao’nung of this however so when you walk out in your handmade swimsuit for the first time, it takes him a moment to connect his mouth to his brain again. You give a little twirl as you always do, before rambling on about what material it’s made of and how easy or difficult it was to construct. 

And as usual, Ao’nung takes his time admiring your latest work with greedy hands that always come out to grip your hips and spin you from side to side. This is a common routine for the two of you. It is customary for him to see your latest projects first so you can receive his opinion. Although both of you know he offers nothing close to helpful feedback. The real joy from this arrangement comes from him opening ogling you in the pretty clothes until you sufficiently feel confident in your genius. 

You never stop him when he gets handsy either. Although that pretty blush often spreads from your cheeks to collarbones and you giggle at his lack of restraint, he knows you enjoy the obvious display of carnal desire. It’s a win-win scenario. 

And today, stars above, there is so much for him to look at. Or rather, so little fabric to cover your form because this swimsuit as you call it is tiny. In many ways it feels a lot closer to the usual attire of females in his clan with intricate straps and only a tiny top and bottom to shield some of his favorite parts. In fact, this set is much like your bra and panties combo.

When he squeezes your hips and turns you to the side, he is more than ecstatic to find that this duo is actually more revealing than most of your undergarments. Is this truly considered decent in tawtute culture? Oh well, he knows better than to question when something good comes his way. Whatever reasoning sky people have come up with to justify these tiny outfits, he is grateful for. 

The bottoms are held together by strings that tie at each hip similar to the ties on your upper back that keep the small chest piece in place. You’ve chosen fabrics of light blue for the base and cream for the trim that is of course bunched into frilly fashion. It wouldn’t be yours without some extra flare. The front of the bottoms cover decently but the back draws a shape higher onto the hips that leaves more than half of your gorgeous ass spilling out. 

And it’s not the only thing to spill. The bottom sit low on your hips so that the front is tucked just beneath that adorable pooch of a stomach that Ao’nung is constantly tempted to bite into. Even the ties on the hips just barely press lines into your plush flesh that you call love handles. And to top it off, there is a tiny bow between your breasts and a matching one just atop your vulva. 

Eywa above, if he knew teaching you to swim would put you in an outfit like this he would have fought even harder to make this day come sooner. 

“Do you like it?” You ask, cheeks pink but eyes telling him that you already know the answer to your own question. 

“What did you call this?” He asks, sweeping your long hair over one shoulder to admire the curve of your spine. 

“A bikini.” 

“Oeyӓ tawtute, I more than like it.” His lips gently press over a mark he had sucked into your skin last week, just above your shoulder blade. With twiddling fingers and a smile he can practically feel radiating even from behind you, goosebumps rise over your exposed flesh. “I don’t know what stops you from wearing this bikini thing more often.” 

You snort and playfulling try to elbow him in the ribs. “You horny meathead.” With a giggle you turn around to scrunch your nose up at him which he has come to recognize as a chiding expression. 

He’s not sure what is so funny about his comment. You may be giggling but he sees no reason why you couldn’t wear this during day to day life on the island. Although, he wouldn’t want to miss out on your strange dresses either. 

“You know I can’t do that.” 

He doesn’t but Ao’nung lets it drop when your small hand intertwines with his own and you practically begin skipping towards the beach. It seems this successful outfit has put you in a good mood, so it’s best to hold his breath and pray that it will remain that way once you get to the water. It has taken a couple weeks of convincing, borderline demanding, that you learn to swim. 

Today you don’t show the usual signs of apprehension so Ao’nung plays along carefully, treading as light as a hunter worried about spooking their prey. 

The good luck has passed. Whatever giddiness you felt from showing off your new bikini dissipated ten minutes ago when you two had finally reached the shore. Now you remain perched on the rock wall that extends a way into the shallows, watching with a nervous smile where Ao’nung stands in the water. 

“You are stalling.” He accuses. 

“I’m not.” You protest, bottom lip becoming snatched between your teeth. “I just think I need to observe you some more before I get in. After all, nothing’s better than watching the master.” 

You catch on fast, that’s for sure. In the short few weeks the two of you have been together it seems that you’ve already devoted yourself to figuring out how to charm him and target certain weak spots. Try as you might, however, that isn’t going to work today. 

“Get in.” 

Your arms wrap around your own torso, a nervous habit of yours. He isn’t being mean, isn’t even raising his voice in the way some of his own teachers did when he was younger but it takes very little to intimidate a small tawtute like you. It’s important that he maintains some form of strict authority in these lessons, otherwise you will walk all over him. 

It will never cease to perplex him how carelessly humans treat learning to swim. He thought the most horrific part of it would have been their form alone, something that had made his jaw drop the first time he saw Spider swim, but unfortunately it goes far beyond that. Among the seaside clans it is customary to have newborn children already learning how to kick to the surface on their own. Children know how to swim far before they can take their first steps. From what he’s heard, even the Omatikaya teach their children from a young age. And yet, Ao’nung was horrified to hear you say that some humans don’t learn how to swim until they are adults, some even die without learning. 

He won’t let that be your fate. So no matter what it takes, he is getting you in the water today. 

“You are being a bad numeyu [student], precious.” He warns, clicking his tongue in feigned disappointment. Just as he expected, your shoulders drop slightly. No doubt if you had a tail it would be tucking between your legs right now. Such little praise to have you melting and such little criticism to have you proving you can do better. 

“We can start tomorrow I prom-AH!” Whatever promise you had hoped to placate him with turns into a squeal when Ao’nung heaves himself up onto the rock wall in one fluid motion. Immediately you start running back towards the beach. You know just as well as him that he can and will hunt you down to drag you back since it has come to that. 

There is a part of him that awakens at the first sign of a chase. It’s the same part of his nature that has him imagining all the ways he could rip those scraps of fabric you call a bikini off and ruin you for any other man. It doesn’t help his focus to have your squishy ass bouncing further out of your bottoms as you sprint. 

Regardless, the hardest part about catching you has nothing to do with the skills he has learned as a hunter and everything to do with keeping his carnal desires at bay. You would be all too happy to let take a session of his head between your pretty legs over a swimming lesson. 

He has one thick arm wrapped around your waist within your first five steps. You waste no time in starting your pleas to be released, shorter legs kicking in the air as he tucks you against his chest. 

“Wait! Ao’nung, I can’t! Not today. Put me down!” 

“You can not learn without getting in the water.” He says simply. 

“No no! I can’t! I can’t!” Once again your words turn to shrieks when he swiftly jumps back into the ocean, softly landing his feet in the substrate. The waves only reach his hips at this height and with you in his arms you are nowhere near having your head dunked under. 

Nevertheless your efforts to cry for mercy quickly shift into clawing your way up his body. You squirm and wiggle and manage to twist halfway towards him so that you can grab his shoulders and try to get higher. You climb him like one does a tree, but with far less grace than anyone who has experience climbing to get the fruit. 

“What are you doing?” With furrowed brows it takes everything in him not to laugh, only grunting softly when your feet get dangerously close to keeping him between the legs. 

“Okay I think that’s enough for today. Bring us back up!” 

“It is fine. Nothing is going to happen.” He assures, using his other hand to steer your feet away from his tewng [loincloth]. Ao’nung tries not to think about how good it feels when your legs wrap around his torso instead. 

“Easy for you to say! You’re like ten feet tall and can hold your breath for an eternity.” The tide is not strong today, just as he planned, but even the small waves billowing against his waist seem to put you on edge. 

This is why you teach children to swim early on. They have no notion of fear. 

He is caught between two conflicting temptations. Laughing his ass off at your antics and chucking you into the deep end much like they do for Metkayina babies. However, both won’t have the desired result in the end. And Ao’nung tries to remember too how different you are from the Metkayina. They are born with life saving instincts while from what he has seen from humans, has been nothing but concerning regarding their instincts. There is no telling if you will resurface if he lets you go under now. 

Growing up his teachers had always been strict; unforgiving. He knew the importance of learning skills swiftly so as not to become a burden for the clan, and even more so surpassing expectations as he would someday be Olo’eyktan. A tough regiment had worked for him but you…

You are soft. And it’s one of his favorite qualities you possess, both physically and emotionally, but this also means that using that strict attitude to the same degree would more likely have you giving up and locking him out of your room more than making any real progress. No, while a firm hand is necessary with you at times, it’s evident that praise draws so much more out of you than negative repercussions. 

Ao’nung had thought you particularly inept when it came to climbing but he is surprised to find that you’ve scooted your way significantly up his torso and now have your blunt nails dig into his shoulder blades. Oh how he wishes they were dug in there for the same reason they were last night as he fingered your demon pussy open. 

“Oeyӓ tsyeym [my treasure], do you think I would let you drown?”

“Well no but-”

“Is there anyone that knows these waters better than me? Anyone further capable when it comes to moving through the sea?”

“No.” You mumble against his shoulder. 

“So since you are here with me, an expert, and we’ve already established I will not let you drown then does that not mean you are the safest person, both human and Na’vi, in the ocean today?” He tucks a curve finger beneath your chin so you are forced to meet his expression, his brows raised in question. 

His logic is difficult to deny although there is still some hesitancy in your movements when you nod. But he’ll take it.

“And as your karyu [teacher] who is experienced in these ways should you not be trusting my methods?”

“Ao’nung-”

“No?”

Those pink lips form into what is surely meant to be a scowl but instead looks like nothing more than a pout to him. You know he’s right. How could you claim otherwise? But you stubbornly want to hold onto this fear. 

“Yes, I suppose.” You say in a voice so small that Ao’nung’s ears have to perch forward to properly catch it. 

“Good girl.” He grins, pecking you on the cheek before you can think up another excuse. “Let us begin.”  

“Mawey, paskalin [be calm, honey]. You are too tense.” He purrs, hands supporting the curve of your back as you attempt to float atop the water. It’s a form not typical for the Metkayina but considering your small lungs he has deemed it essential for taking breaks in the water. However you are stiff as a board. 

“I’m just trying not to sink.” You squirm until back on your feet and latched to his side. Perhaps you worry the tide will be strong enough to pull you out. 

“The harder you try the more you will sink. Diving is not meant to be a struggle won. You must move with the water, do not fight against the sea.” For you to truly understand what he means you would have to actually try submerging beneath the waves. He had insisted that you learn without your mask, after all there is no guarantee you would be with it at all times, but it seems this crutch is one you are attached to and therefore refuse to go beneath the water without. 

It is no issue. Ao’nung would rather teach you to dive the proper way slowly than have you relying on this crutch indefinitely.

“But you said that the sea is unforgiving. That it is a powerful force that does not discriminate when choosing prey.” Wet hair sticks to your cheeks as you look up at him. Ao’nung screws his lips and places a hand on his hip. You know how to pack a lot of trouble for someone half of his size. 

��Hm, you love to twist my words, precious.” He teases, one hand snatching your hip to tug you in closer. He steadies your weak form when you stumble at the action. 

“I-I’m not twisting it but this doesn’t make any sense. What am I supposed to do if a wave pulls me out from shore? I’ve heard even some Na’vi can not kick their way back in and so if they can’t neither can I. Not with these weak tawtute legs. And that’s not to mention the sea creatures. To some of them I’m not even a full bite!”

“None this close to shore are big enough to bite.” He cocks his head to the side. “Only some that could sting.”

“Ao’nung!” you screech hitting a hand against his chest. “I’m being serious. How am I ever going to be strong enough to do anything out here? It’s a hopeless cause which I knew but then again when do I ever really listen to-”

“You have forgotten to breathe.” And sure enough you pause for a second to take in his words before finally inhaling a shaky breath. When you get into rambles like this it’s common for you to fly off without any end in sight. Some days they are born out of nerves while others it's in excitement as you explain your favorite romantic movie in detail to him for thirty minutes. How did you survive such rambles before him? Who else was there to remind you the importance of oxygen? 

“You think too much, paskalin.” Your pout only deepens but you lean against him. “I said I will teach you to swim and so I will. The rest is not for you to worry about.” Your hair tickles his lower abs when your head rests against him. He hears you inhale, preparing himself for more weak protests, but then you stop. 

Your attention is snatched off to his far left where there is some splashing. He follows your gaze to find it fixated on one of the newests Ilu’s in deeper waters. This juvenile can only be a few weeks old as it is shorter than his forearm and remains in close proximity to its mother. 

When he spots the way your expression softens, an idea sprouts. Ao’nung has been taking the wrong angle this entire time. It was only last week that he discovered how empathetic you are for animals, especially ones that have not reached adulthood. You had gone from constantly cooing at the strange small animals in your magic screen to falling apart into blubbering tears when one of the baby hippos, as you called them, couldn’t find his mother. It took a long time of hearing your choked up voice ramble about how alone that little creature must feel. It was a strange experience. Then again, that was during your bleeding week. 

“We call her An’ali and her mother Se’xte.”

“She is adorable.”

“Do you want to see her?” 

“Well yes but it’s deeper out there…” You trail off, uncertainty present in your tone. 

“Grab on.” He instructs before bending down onto one knee and prompting your hands to his shoulders. You’re slow to comply, those big beautiful eyes peeking up at him with a flicker of apprehension but it seems your curiosity overrides that emotion because you finally clutch his shoulder to sprawl out across his back. 

He could walk out to the ilu without any struggle of touching the bottom but Ao’nung opts to swim out smoothly, keeping his head and yours above the water. Just a small step to get you used to the feeling of gliding through the water. However, his swishing tail coming to aid does get tangled with your feet every now and then causing a giggle to bubble up your throat. 

Luckily this sensation appears to distract you from the way the ilu swim out further into deeper waters. Ao’nung finds himself holding his breath, praying that you don’t notice how much further the sandy bottom is now. Fortunately, just as he hoped, the cute creatures have your full attention upon reaching them. 

“Wow,” You whisper in a daze, looking past his shoulder. An’ali rubs up against her mother, earning an affectionate call in return. “They are beautiful.”

“They are ilu. Peaceful creatures.” When he reaches behind him to grab one of your hands there is resistance but he continues until it is resting upon the mother’s head. Se’xte gives a curious look but does not push away your tiny hand that pets at her head. He has a strong enough bond with her to have trust extending to you as well. 

“And you ride them?”

“When we are younger, yes. Once a Na’vi has come of age and undergone their iknimaya they ride Tsurak.” If you are this amazed by the ilu he can only imagine what you will think once he introduces you to a Tsurak. Once he gets you more comfortable in the ocean maybe he can convince you to let him take you for a ride. At a slow pace of course. Your soft little hands do not have an ounce of the grip strength necessary to hold on for anything faster. 

“She likes you.” Ao’nung smiles as Se’xte gives a chirp. He can practically feel you beam against his ear. 

“I like her too.” It only lasts for another minute or so before the ilu is ducking beneath the water, not a sufficient amount of time to get a closer look at her baby. “Where are they going?”

“Beneath. We can follow.” Your fingers dig deeper into his shoulders, your breath wavering. Ao’nung doesn’t wait for permission however. It’s best not to give you time to overthink it. “Take a deep breath, paskalin.” 

He waits to hear you deep inhale before diving beneath the surface. Your right arm hooks around his neck instinctively, your legs kicking out frantically but then there are the ilu just ahead, swimming around one another in a playful circle. Not wanting to push his luck too much on the first time, he surfaces after only a few seconds. This time he sets you to stand on a rock so that your head is above the soft waves. 

“Ao’nung!” You gasp, holding a hand over your heart as if it is about to go into cardiac arrest. “Are you insane?! I could have died.”

“And yet you didn’t.” 

That deeply rooted frown melts even as your eyes glare daggers back at him, no doubt not appreciating the smug look he wears. “You maniac!” Your accusation is accompanied by your right hand splashing water back at him. You’re barely holding back giddy laughter as you splash at him. Say what you want, but he knows you enjoyed the rush. 

Ao’nung sweeps his own right hand out to splash back but his miscalculation of strength and the difference in height turns it into a full wave that washes over your entire upper body. “Oh.” He cringes slightly, feeling just a tad bit guilty for playing so rough. 

However, to his surprise it lights something in your eyes. That embering fire turns into full blown competition as you try to imitate his man made wave. He fights back with his own, this time more gentle, retaliation as your laughter picks up. The Metkayina male’s tail swishes in excitement the further you take this little competition. Little sounds erupt from you that confuse him for a moment before he realizes this is your human form of battle cries. 

His stomach aches from laughing so hard even as you manage to push a wave high enough to pummel him in the face. Ao’nung’s cerulean eyes narrow, his lips turning up into a crooked smirk. You have the better sense to scramble across the short distance of the rock when he lets out echoing yips and cries of a hunter who has already caught his precious prey. 

Laughter and shouts coalesce together when he snatches you back in his arms. The splashing dies down as you struggle to catch your breath between wheezing laughter. Even Ao’nung himself finds his heart pounding at a significantly faster rhythm, but it’s spurred on by a new thrill that has taken him. 

In the fit of playing you’ve slowly floated out of the circle in his arms, still holding onto his arms for support but there is no fear in your eyes now at being loosely kept above water. Just as he thought, the worst was all in your head. 

“Do you trust me?”

You pause, eyes flickering between his face and the water again. And though it takes a moment for you to respond, you finally relent. “I do.” 

Ao’nung smiles and situates you to float on your stomach. “Follow my lead, precious. Take a deep breath.” 

Once he is sure your lungs are filled with oxygen Ao’nung wastes no time in helping you dive beneath the surface. His hands guide your body into the proper arch so that you can sink below and once you are, he dives beneath himself and grabs your clasped hands. With ease he slips deeper until he is directly below you and able to smoothly pull you through the water. 

Your eyes are squeezed shut, as if bracing for harsh impact. Rolling his own eyes, he taps your cheek gently. When they timidly open he gives you a wide grin and a wink. However, Ao’nung does not have your spotlight for long. Now blown wide into sparkling orbs, your eyes take in every detail of the sea.

He gets to see it. The first time you fall in love with the ocean. The way you almost let out the breath in your lungs when a spade wing skates close by. How your gaze reflects every vibrant color the reefs have to offer. From the smallest to largest creature, you pay each the same undivided regard. 

He couldn’t say what you see if his life depended on it, too enraptured in watching your reaction instead. The way one hand unclasps from his and reaches out to pet the juvenile ilu that passes them. Ao’nung can’t remember the first time he saw the ocean. He was only a baby and since then the underwater world has been his home more than the land above. So there is no telling if he looked at it for the first time the way you do now. Does he still appreciate the beauties of the sea for what they’re worth? Or has he grown to take such things for granted? 

It feels like seeing it anew when he looks at it through your eyes.  

He could watch you forever. Pull you through every inch of the sea if it means you can experience every wonder present from the open sea to the small nooks and crannies. You however can not hold your breath forever like this. So reluctantly, Ao’nung pulls you back up above the waves.  

You gasp for air, but luckily there is no coughing fit to follow. Ao’nung keeps you above the surface as you fight to go back into a steady breathing pattern. However, it seems that the rapid beat of your heart is not just from catching your breath but also a reflection of the pure adrenaline your body displays. 

Nothing is said for a long moment. Trying to gauge your reaction is difficult but a ravenous energy buzzes from you. Those pink lips part, but you don’t speak right away. You don’t appear to know what to say. And then slowly, your right hand comes to cup his cheek. He’s lost in your eyes the moment they snag his. A small sound catches in your throat, something between a laugh and a sigh. 

For all the millions of words you’ve spoken, somehow this sound is the one he understands the most. True and utter awe. 

Ao’nung doesn’t have to think when your lips touch his. It’s as simple as holding his breath, effortless as he pulls your body closer to his and bends to meet your kiss. It’s only been a few weeks since you first came to retrieve your bunny from his marui but his body has already begun acclimating to yours beautifully. He knows when to anticipate your little gasps for air when you’ve been kissing too long. His large hands have memorized the curve of your face and the feel of his fingers threading through your silky hair. 

The ocean has never felt more tranquil than with you in his arms. 

“The purple on the fins also reminded me of a dress that I put down ages ago, but now I don’t know maybe I will pick it up again. Because it looks so pretty in the water. Now that I think about it, it reminds me a lot of Annika’s dress. The one she magically receives at the end.” 

Ao’nung wracks his brain to identify which movie you are referring to. Is this one you have already showed him or are you simply thinking out loud? Chances are it may be one of the stories he missed entirely because you were too tempting wrapped in that silky lingerie. Distracting you had earned him a light slap to the head but you didn’t complain once you were clenching around his thick fingers. 

Even with your translation, following the plots of those weird stories is not nearly as entertaining as watching your face scrunch up in pleasure. Regardless, it’s important to you so he tries his best to behave. Or at least behave enough to keep you from kicking him out of your room. 

“Oh my god what I would give to have the fabric for that dress.” You groan, your little theatrics tugging a smile to his lips. 

“You were a very good numeyu [student] today, paskalin.” Ao’nung says, squeezing the hand that is interlocked with his own. Your fingers barely peek out from where his massive hand has them caged. 

“Yeah well I have a pretty good karyu [teacher].” You send a wink even as heat rushes to your cheeks. 

“Well I wouldn’t be a good teacher if I didn’t motivate you properly. So since you were so good for me today,” He snatches your waist and pulls you to a stop against him in one move. “I think you deserve a reward.” Those soft hands rest along his stomach, thumbs absentmindedly rubbing circles along the swirling pattern of his skin. 

“Oh…I…is that so?” All essence of confident flirting flitters away before his eyes. Much like a fish out of water you gape for the proper words. It is far too easy to render you to such a state. 

“Why are you soaking wet?” Lo’ak rounds the corner and jumps onto the woven walkway. While you put effort into breaking away and turning to the Sully boy with a smile, Ao’nung finds no reason to conceal his distaste for the untimely interruption. 

“We were swimming.” You chirp, bouncing on the balls of your feet. Lo’ak’s unnatural dark brows knit together. 

“You can’t swim. You’re terrified of the water. Remember last time I tried to get you in. It took hours and after five minutes you-”

An unrecognizable string of words fall from your lips to interrupt a story that Ao’nung was becoming quite interested in hearing. The consolation prize however is hearing your sharp tone shut the other male down. Whatever embarrassing memory Lo’ak was wanting to share is certainly enough to have you fidgeting beside him. “Ao’nung is teaching me how to swim.” You say, switching back to Na’vi. 

“You are?” Lo’ak scoffs, finally turning to address him. His golden eyes dart between the two of you and it takes no genius to understand what memory the forest boy is recalling. In his youth Ao’nung had not been the most patient in teaching Lo’ak especially. Then again, he was also not in love with Lo’ak. He never earned the same softness that you bring out in him. 

“It seems she has only been in need of the right karyu.” That smooth comment has Lo’ak eyes narrowed into slits. Sensing the tension between them you are quick to jump in. 

“It was actually a lot of fun! I got to see a spade wing and a baby ilu, Lo.” Your voice is infused with so much energy, it’s clear you are attempting to compensate for the negative energy withering between Lo’ak and himself. 

“And you went out in that? Tsmuke [sister], those are barely scraps.” He huffed, gesturing at your swimsuit. Something swells in Ao’nung’s chest. By the stars he is not about to let some forest boy crumble your confidence in wearing such a garment after all the work you’ve done to get this far. However, just as he is about to steer you behind him and give this skxawng [moron]  a piece of his mind, you shrug and let out a little laugh. 

“You wear nothing but a loincloth every day, Lo’ak. You’re not really in a position to judge.” Lo’ak opens his mouth to protest but you beat him to the punch. “Anyways, we’ve got to run. Bye!” You call out with a dramatic wave while tugging Ao’nung down the walkway. Sending a sly look over his shoulder he catches the way Lo’ak watches from afar with a pinched expression. 

“Sorry about him.” You sigh. 

“He does not approve.” 

“No, it’s not like that. Lo’ak just thinks he has to play this protective brother role. It’s not personal.” His relationship with Lo’ak has come a long way since the Sullys first landed on this walkway. They’ve grown to put up with one another and occasionally be friendly, a necessity with the Omatikaya male courting his sister. That being said, he has never considered them close, nor would he be offended at finding out Lo’ak sees it the same way. You on the other hand don’t seem to understand this dynamic as you desperately try to reassure him. 

“I swear he thinks just because he’s taller he can play big brother. He has concerns but that’s just part of his bravado act. I wouldn’t let it bother you.”

“It doesn’t.” Ao’nung shrugs. Although, it nags at him that Lo’ak has been sharing these concerns with you. If he has complaints they should be brought to him directly, not woven into your mind in hopes of creating doubt. Would that work? Have you already developed your own concerns? You’re a shy little thing at times but Ao’nung has always figured that to be part of how your personality reacts to his own. Surely, you must know the way he feels about you. 

For all the ways you openly wear your heart on your sleeve, he still somehow can not be sure. Some things still remain a mystery when it comes to you. 

“What is this?” You ask, once you're back inside his marui. He squints to make out one of the small figurines he had placed next to his hunting gear. 

“A…cat?” He answers, eyes still squinting to see if he has passed your test correctly. 

“No Ao’nung. I mean what is it doing here? What are all of them doing here?” The rest of the figurines are much like this cat one, although just like your bunny they all wear tiny clothes. Calico Critters you had called them the first time he asked. They serve no real purpose, just tiny things that stand there but the important thing is that you adore them. 

So naturally he swiped them to bring back here. 

“They don’t do anything, precious. Just exist I suppose.” 

Your attempt at a stern expression is endearing, hand placed on your hips as your neck cranes to glare up at him. 

“I’m starting to think you’re a kleptomaniac. You can’t keep stealing my stuff.” 

“It is not stealing.” He shrugs. 

“Oh really? Then what is it?” 

“Relocating.” Ao’nung grins. “Now you can enjoy them here.” 

Although there is not true ire in your questioning there is in fact real push back on the topic. You know why he has stolen your creepy figurines. Just as you know why he has strung some fabrics of pink and purple like a canopy along the ceiling of his marui. And placed a few of your extra blankets in his hammock. Whatever it takes to lure you back here night after night. 

Notwithstanding all of his efforts, you continue to split your time between here and your place in the tawtute caves. Moving into his marui would be a natural next step in your relationship. Of course you are attached to all the silly trinkets you’ve acquired but he is not opposed to letting you litter his marui with them as long as you would call this place your home too. 

Still, he remains patient. Many courting couples wait until properly mating before living together anyways. You must share the same morals. However, he sees no harm in enticing you all the same. 

“I know what you’re doing.” Your voice smooths out into a sing-song tone. Ao’nung’s long hair falls over his right shoulder when he cocks his head to the side and feigns innocent curiosity. “You truly are ridiculous.” Fighting back a smile you begin arranging the figurines neatly into their separate families. 

He has the decency to wait until they’re organized before sweeping you from the ground and falling back onto his hammock in one swift move. It draws a surprised chirp from your lips. A deep sigh echoes from his own chest even as you make weak protests about him giving you a heart attack.

“You know I still need to dry off.” You remind him but Ao’nung already has his head leaned back against the woven fabric. His right arm smoothly encircles around your middle to clamp you against his chest. You squirm and thrash to get out of his hold but it only takes an iota of his strength to keep you locked there. Even with his eyes closed in a show of feigned sleep, he can’t keep his lips from twitching into a pleased smirk. 

That smirk crackles into a full laughter induced grin when your small hand swats at the side of his head. “Ao’nung,” You chide, a slight whine to your tone that has him stifling back his amusement. 

Peeking his eyes open he finds your own strangely colored eyes glaring back at him. This little game of back and forth is one that you both enjoy frequently but he has a feeling that this time you may actually insist on being let up to get your towel. A sigh heaves from his chest as he shakes his head fondly. “There is no need, tawtute. I will keep you warm.” He says, reaching down to pull out a blanket and toss it over your small form. 

Ao’nung is grateful when you don’t fight him further or demand a proper reason. He would give one but it’s unlikely you would understand. How could he explain that seeing you drenched like this does something to him? That your hair smelling of the sea’s salt water serves as a direct signal of you and his home coming together? Everything about you is unique, so new and foreign to him but there is something about witnessing those beautiful aspects of you slowly integrate into his life on the reef as well that lingers with him. 

But you’re tawtute. Your sense of smell is greatly dampened in comparison. It’s a shame considering how many times he has scent marked you and you can’t even recognize it, let alone appreciate the possessive gesture. No, there isn’t an easy way to explain to you what he is feeling as he presses his nose against your crown. And even if there is, it’s doubtful that he would be the one to find it. Saying the right thing hasn’t always been his strong suit. It’s Tsireya that is good with the mushy sentiments. 

And why waste the air with such jumbled nonsense when this moment already holds everything he needs? An ocean breeze that filters through the entrance of his marui to coast over your frame and carry your essence. A soft sway to the hammock, lulling him to relax. The satisfying weight of your warm body draped across his own. 

And then there are your hands. Uncalloused pointer finger that delicately begins tracing over his shoulder tattoo. The soft glide of your finger greatly contrasts the pain he had endured to stain his skin with dark ink. You’ve never witnessed a Metkayina tattoo ceremony but your quiet fascination carries a certain reverence. 

Swirling down further and further until he can feel the tickle along his bicep. Such a simple sensation, barely more than the brush of a breeze, yet it melts through him like liquid gold. The unconscious tense of his muscles release and already he can feel his breath deepen. He’s on the verge of succumbing to this silent lullaby when his ear twitches from being touched. 

Ao’nung opens his eyes to find that you are carefully tucking a few strands or curly hair behind his pointed ear. Letting others touch his hair is not a normal practice for him. Traditionally he has relied on Tsireya exclusively to fashion it into a suitable hairstyle. There is something deeply…personal about it. It’s always been a fixation for you though.

And where his tail typically pikes onto alert and a growl blossoms in his chest at a foreign touch to his curls, somehow it all dissipates away when it comes to your strange tawtute hands. 

Perhaps it's the way you marvel at him openly. You’ve always had a fascination for pretty things, a category that he was pleased to find himself a part of when your hasty confession came that first night. You’re often shy in speaking it, but your touch and stare always hold that same appreciation for his physique. 

There’s more to it, though. 

When you stare up at him like this, all bashfulness put to the side, it cuts him open. As if with one prolonged moment you’ve managed to strip him bare and peer into his very soul. It’s not his hair or intricate tattoos that you see. Not even the dozen of physical differences between you two that screams alien. You look at him. 

Whatever you see in him. 

If only he could read your thoughts. Finally untangle your tawtute customs and culture that have webbed you into a puzzle for him. Do you get that burning in your chest too? That one that feels like his heart has been clutched in an iron grip? Perhaps a grip from the same hands that now go back to tracing his tattoos. 

With the smallest sigh your head drops back onto his chest. Sleep overcoming you is obvious by the now absence of touch along his right bicep. Ao’nung follows you into slumber mere minutes after when he has finally brought his heart rate back to a normal speed. 

Your nap far exceeds his own. While Ao’nung had only dosed off for a few minutes but you are dead to the world for at least a half hour. Apparently that little swim had worn you to the bone. He would have to help you with endurance. It seems tawtute are not built for staying in the water long. 

In fact you are so still as you sleep that Ao’nung finds himself placing a hand across your back to check that it still rises and falls with breath. When you do wake up it takes a minute for you to make out where you are with blurry vision. A sheepish look crosses your features upon realizing what position you’ve remained in. It’s followed by some silly notion that you laying on top of him is somehow considered rude or uncomfortable. He’ll never understand why you make these assertions. 

Regardless, Ao’nung quickly wraps both arms around your waist when you attempt to move off of him. Dislodging yourself from his hold is an impossible task, a truth that you must come to recognize as you only give a feigned huff and try fighting back a smile. 

“We can’t stay here forever you know.” 

His pointer finger slowly drags over every vertebrae of your spine as he lets out a thoughtful hum. “Maybe not forever but I did promise a reward. Can’t have you skipping off before receiving what you are owed.” 

The air seems to thicken with his words. A familiar tension is slowly wound as all of your sleepiness dissipates and goosebumps ripple across your skin. He can feel the evidence of his own excitement shifting beneath his tewng. Dirty thoughts of all the ways he could reward you sprout to the forefront of his mind. There is no end to these thoughts when it comes to you. Never before has someone woven themselves into his fantasies so incessantly. Even to the point where it can be a struggle to focus on his duties while you swim through his head. 

Ao’nung pushes down those ideas for now, however. It’s only fair that you get to pick the reward after all that you’ve accomplished today. And then…if you need some ideas he would be more than anxious to supply. 

“Have you decided what reward that will be?” He asks, forcing his hands to remain above the tempting curve of your ass. Just for now. You’re not always the most articulate when his wandering hands come into play. 

Something flickers in your expression. Only a second before you are averting your gaze and gnawing on your bottom lip. Ao’nung’s exploring hand stills as curiosity lights within him. Propping himself onto one elbow he invades your space, forcing your eyes to meet his own. 

“You do.” He smirks, reveling in the way you fight to squirm. 

“Well, maybe. I don’t know. It’s just an idea so I’m not sure if-”

“Sevin [beautiful/pretty],” Ao’nung interrupts. “Tell me.” He coats his voice in a smooth purr, hoping to coax an answer from you, but his patience can only last so long. Whatever idea has sprouted in your brain must be obscene enough to prompt such hesitation in telling him. However Ao’nung has come to find that your meter for rating lewds acts is far more sensitive than his own. Regardless, you have his attention now. All of his previous ideas are cast to the side in favor of hearing what has you blushing. 

“I was thinking that maybe…if it’s okay with you…that I could…suck you off?”

Ao’nung’s devilish smirk drops in an instant. 

“For your reward you want to suck my cock?” The vulgar language has your cheeks deepening in color but you manage to nod.

Great Mother above, where did he find you?

It seems he must have done something right in his past life. He was ready to find satisfaction in your slick along his tongue and watching your writhe with pleasure but now you are sitting on top of him, the true depiction of bashfulness, asking to put his cock down your throat. His brain can’t really make sense of it, but he still stands by not asking questions when nice things come his way. And precious, you are by far the nicest thing he has ever had. 

“Is that weird?”

“No,” comes his instant reply. Subconsciously he holds his breath. You’re an easy one to spook. 

“Actually I was hoping you could teach me.” 

This is starting to feel far too close to one of his favorite fantasies. So much so that Ao’nung takes note of every detail in the room to confirm that this could not be just some erotic dream. But this is real and a feral creature is stirring inside of him, gnawing at the bars of its enclosure. 

“You’ve never…” Ao’nung trails off. Neither of you have talked much about past relationships, you especially. It’s common knowledge that the Metkayina prince has had his time sleeping around but he has no inkling of what you’ve experienced. The only hints he receives are the clear hesitation in your movements. Just enough to have him wondering if he is your first. 

“I have. Just once.” That has his other arm propping him so he is now sitting up properly. “I mean I tried to once but I-I wasn’t very good at it. At least that’s what he said. Which make sense, I had no idea what I was doing so I couldn’t really be mad when he said we shouldn’t again-”

“Who?” A dark venom fills his chest. This is the first time you’ve discussed a past lover and he’s already not liking the light it's being presented in. 

“Just a guy I used to date back with the Omatikaya.” So he’s not here. It would take crossing an ocean to kill him. Then again, he’s done more for less. Was it an Omatikaya male or did you fool around with one of the science tawtute? “It’s fine. He was right.”

His brain lags at the information. Caught between confusion and rage. 

“And oh god now I’ve made it sound like the most unappealing thing possible. Great.” 

Ao’nung barely hears your embarrassed groan. What man in their right mind has a beautiful creature like you on her knees for him only to criticise and turn her away? To be presented a gift and not only reject it but smash it into pieces, tear your confidence to shreds. So what if you’re inexperienced? A true man knows how to teach, takes joy in it. Joy that this creature has tossed out without regard. 

It’s a perplexing tug of war between emotions. As a man himself he can’t help but find this person’s actions incredibly ridiculous. And yet, the idea of him enjoying your body has Ao’nung imagining ripping this faceless man to shreds. And a man he must not be. No true man does this. 

To treat you in this way…there is no honor in such actions. The Omatikaya are different but they are still respectable Na’vi. It could not have been one of them, that would somehow feel worse. So a tawtute it must have been. A vrrtep [demon]. 

“It doesn’t have to be that. I think I might be making it a bit weird by sharing this.”

“This man said such things to you?” To your face? He looked you in the eyes as you fiddled with the hem of a lacy skirt and apprehension seated beneath long lashes and told you he didn’t enjoy your mouth around him? He watched those beautiful eyes hold back tears? Looked at perfection incarnate and spat in the face of it? 

“Well yeah but..does it really matter?”

Does it matter? How could it not matter? Is that what he wanted you to think? That this was no big deal, convince you to suck it up and move on without complaint? That wouldn’t work on you. It’s only been a few weeks and even Ao’nung knows that words cut you deep. Anyone with a morsel of sense would know that. But this man, the same that somehow had the honor of sharing your bed, obviously had not taken a second to understand you. 

Could he even please you if so? Had he even tried? Not in the way Ao’nung has, that much has been obvious from the way you still tremble after the orgasms he coaxes from you. It’s not a contest, for that he would require true competition. However a part of him, a part that directly conflicts his innate urge to pummel any man that has touched you, feels as if there should be competition. No one would ever compare to him, but your past experiences should have at least been enjoyable. 

“Who is this?” His throat strains to hold back a growl. 

“Um…I’m getting the feeling that it’s a bad idea to tell you.” 

Smart thing that you are, you’re right. Correct if your goal is to prevent Ao’nung from ripping this anonymous man’s throat out. He can’t fathom why you would want to protect him but then again this is very in character for you. No matter what someone has done you always have a way of finding a soft spot for them. You care so much, sometimes too much. 

And this man didn’t care for you at all. 

Your precious heart is too big to tell him, but the Metkayina prince vows he will find out one way or another. 

“He was just being honest.” 

“Sevin,” A stern understone laces the pet name as he captures your chin. “He did not deserve you.”

Ao’nung weighs those words with every ounce of sincerity he can muster. And you feel it. It shows in the way your shoulders drop and expression melts into something new. Not a smile by any means but his words have touched you, they beckon you further into his arms. And then there is that cinch around his heart again. 

And being the ridiculous little thing you are, you thank him. As if telling the truth is ever a favor. You are utterly nonsensical at times. Utterly nonsensical and utterly his. 

“What he deserves is a spear through the chest.”

“Okay big guy, calm down.” You say, patting his chest while trying to hide your creeping amusement. You think he’s joking. How cute. 

“Are you asking me to teach you because that’s what you want or because you think this is what I want?” Ao’nung hates to ask, to potentially ruin this opportunity for himself, but it’s needed. He won’t be like that pathetic creature of a lover you once had. Avoiding that starts with making sure you aren’t simply doing this for his benefit, to prove yourself in a way that he has never and will never ask you to. 

“Do you want it?” 

His hairless brows drop as he gives you a deadpan look. “Precious, you already know that I do.” Want it more than you can even fathom. “But that’s not what I asked you.”

There is a beat of hesitation, you poor bottom lip already torn up from your gnawing. “I want to feel like I know what I’m doing. I want to make you feel good in the same way you do me.” 

“You already do.” There is still much left for the two of you to explore, so much more he can’t wait to do with you but there is no rush. You’ve brought him to the heights of pleasure no one else has before. 

“I know but…still. And it’s not the only reason why. I’m curious.” Your head tilts in a subtle way to create a curtain out of your hair and hide that sheepish look. “You’re just so different and I…I’m interested.” 

Different.

Interested.

Two trails of thoughts fighting for attention. Different from your past lover. Different because he is Metkayina or different because he is a Na’vi. Perhaps it shouldn’t matter but it’s difficult to stamp down that curiosity.

However, Ao’nung focuses on the latter. The same that has his ears perking with his own interest and groin suddenly becoming very aware of your weight situated there. 

A low hum of appreciation rumbles in his chest as he slowly situates your further onto his lap. His turquoise cheek brushes against your jaw before he presses a slow kiss there. “My curious sevin, hm?” You suck in a breath when his sharp teeth just barely nip at your earlobe. 

“Yes.” You whisper but those small hands are already smoothing over his shoulders, one even slinking to the nape of his neck. 

“You know I am always happy to sate your curiosity, precious.” 

That abused bottom lip is finally released when he captures you in a kiss. Despite the growing anticipation, Ao’nung leads this kiss in a pace that is anything but rushed. It’s languid. Relaxed. Sensual. And when he tilts his head to deepen the kiss you eagerly respond in kind. 

The ties of your bikini are much simpler than the average Metkayina top and yet it’s difficult to concentrate on undoing them when his tongue is swirling around yours and your hands have already taken real estate lodged deep in his hair. Fingers fumbling for a moment to undo your top he can’t fathom at which point he had let you get such a tight hold on him. Those curious hands hold more power than he would dare to let you know. 

The skimpy piece of fabric finally sags, only held up by being sandwiched between his chest and yours. 

“This is what you want?” Ao’nung asks again, only departing from your lips for a second. 

“Yes.” He pulls back when you eagerly chase after him for more.

“Promise me.” He demands. 

“I promise.” 

No words have tasted sweeter against his lips. So Ao’nung rewards your sweet behavior with a slow beckon of his tongue. Skillfully exploring and stroking your own until a groan has your lips parting wider for him. His right hand cups the back of your head, easily encompassing the width of your skull in his hold. Anything to keep you there, to continue breathing in your essence until it is seared down his throat. 

Your breath is erratic when he pulls away. Even more so when he whispers a simple, “good girl.” There is always a visceral reaction that comes from that short phrase. An ease of tension in your muscles, a breathy sigh that directly trails to a shiver down your spine. It’s become one of his favorite coined phrases for that reaction exactly. Praise has a way of slipping you into a new headspace, one where worry dissipates and you finally allow him to worship you in the way you deserve. 

Ao’nung veers back just enough to let your top fall before pulling you close again. Your breasts press against his chest, those tender nubs already prickling against his skin. So responsive and he’s hardly done anything to you yet. 

It’s your turn to fumble with the ties when you attempt to undo his tewng. Ao’nung smoothly shifts onto his knees but that doesn’t greatly reduce your struggle when it comes to unwinding the ties from his tail. He’s partly to blame. The second you graze the base of his tail it reacts with a strong swish. Without one of your own, it must be difficult for you to comprehend the unique sensitivity of his tail. You sense there is something, though, hands already retreating shyly. 

“What is wrong?” He murmurs against your temple. 

“Nothing.” 

It’s less than convincing, even more so when you grapple to meet his gaze. “No need to be shy, precious.” 

“I just…don’t want to hurt you.” 

It’s tempting to roll his eyes, a tawtute habit you’ve somehow managed to ingrain in him. Instead, he grasps your tiny hand carefully in his own and begins pushing it back towards his tail. “Just as you are mine, paskalin, I am yours.” Ao’nung fights back a shiver when you just barely brush the base of the wide appendage. “Which means I am yours to explore. Yours to enjoy.”

“Take advantage of it.” Something flickers in your countenance at his words. Although still slow and careful in actions a spark of intrigue ignites. He has been the main instigator in your interactions, far more bold in letting his desire for you show. And while Ao’nung revels in always having the upper hand it’s important that you understand the joy that comes from it too. To let you wander and sate your curiosities without restraint. Finally allow yourself the freedom from silly tawtute concerns that plague you. 

Because he is yours. 

He has been yours since the first time he saw you land at their shores with ribbons in your hair wearing that ridiculously short yellow dress. Even he did not know that day how far gone he already was. 

Either way, you two have obviously been crafted for one another. And Ao’nung will be damned before he lets pointless Sky People customs get in the way of you fully enjoying that bond. To finally taste the ecstasy that comes with owning someone, body and soul. 

Finally his tewng falls away and Ao’nung helps you dispose of it to the side. As he works on the ties of your bottoms now a kernel of courage slowly sprouts within your actions. Ao’nung smirks against the crook of your neck when he feels the traces of fingertips along his pecs before dragging over the lines of his abdomen. 

As tempting as it is to tease you for the interest, Ao’nung spares you his knowing looks and instead encourages the action by placing sweet kisses along your throat. With very little effort he ripens an old mark he had left there last week, licking over the now beautiful contrast of color in delight. It seems to spur something within you as well, small kisses now running over his collarbones and down his chest. 

The touch is featherlight, enough to have him almost squirming at how it tickles him. However, you are already letting your touch travel south. Ao’nung graciously aids this endeavor, sliding you off of his lap, flinging your bottoms to the side and laying down on his back with spread legs. For a moment he considers standing up and letting you kneel for a better access but it feels like a risk. 

You are just barely mustering up enough confidence to explore. A small thing like you is easy to startle, standing above you could be too intimidating. And as much as he loves watching your nerves paint a beautiful blush over those cheeks, today it’s in his best interest to tread carefully. 

Ao’nung holds back a jerk reaction when your hand wraps around the base of his cock. Despite your demure nature this activity has become one very familiar to you. It’s been a safe substitute for your little pussy as you work your way up there. It’s hard not to think about how you will stretch around his thick cock someday, how little whines will bubble up your throat without reprieve and he will finally know what it means to be inside of you. 

But you are small. And fragile. 

It’s easier to push those thoughts aside in order to maintain his patience. 

You only stroke him a few times, hand barely able to wrap fully around him. And then without any warning, there is a loss of touch and you are crawling up his chest again. Ao’nung pulls back and raises a brow when your right hand slinks to the back of his head. Perhaps you are wanton for another kiss but then your lips never descend to his. Instead there is a shift in his hair before the rest of his long locks are falling freely and you are holding the band that originally had it tied into a bun. 

This is a common preference of yours, seeing his hair unrestrained. However, today you don’t just fling the band to the side and become engrossed in admiring the curls. That large band is fitted around your wrist before you are bending back to gather your own hair. The view is more than preferable, back curving and chest opened up for his heated gaze. All of a sudden he can’t remember what his objections to his own hair were. Not when his teeth are drawing blood from his lip just imagining how perfectly they would sink into your right breast. Just above the nipple where no one but him would get to admire such a beautiful mark. 

You tie your hair back into a ponytail, even giving its roots a good tug for measure. You mean business. 

“Who is stealing whose stuff now?” Ao’nung jests. 

“I don’t see you complaining.” Your nose scrunches at him in a teasing manner. It wipes away when his warm hands encompass your hips, kneading the flesh sensually. His left  hand travels up your stomach and past your ribcage before brushing one nipple not so innocently. 

“I’m very generous when it comes to you, precious.” You won’t understand how true those words are, especially when you’re too busy gasping at the harsh tug he gives your right nipple. 

Saliva gathers along his tongue as he flicks the other hardened nub. Those pretty little tits always feel good in his mouth. So malleable. Your cries always responsive. If it weren’t for the clear ache between his legs the Metkayina prince would have you flipped onto your back and mouth tormenting those perfect breasts until you would beg for him to stop by now. 

But that’s not the reward he promised you, he reminds himself as you are released and slink back down between his thighs. Apprehension settles in your shoulders again when you are face to face with his twitching cock. Fisting the bottom you take a deep breath to steady yourself. 

“Paskalin,” He calls lowly. “There is no rush.” 

Everything in his body screams otherwise, but Ao’nung maintains a cool composure. You’re already nervous. Already scarred from a past bad experience. It’s his job to do everything in his power to ease that burden. Even when that means torturing himself with the perfect image of you nestled between his thighs all while desperately aching for your touch. 

“Yeah but you’re-”

“I am fine. It’s your reward, sevin. Do what feels natural to you.” 

What feels natural to you is far more than what he is ready for. Plush lips press against his hip bone, trailing down into open mouthed kisses along his thigh. And then there are your teeth. Those silly blunt teeth that struggle to make an indent in his flesh but your attempt is stimulating all the same. A soft tongue and small teeth encompassed with those perfectly kissable lips work to suck and bite a new color along his upper right thigh. 

You’re trying to mark him.

Claim him as he has claimed you so many times. 

It’s concerning how fast it frays as his self control, awakening that primal beast within him. His own nails sink into the root of his messy hair while his other hand resting at the back of your head, carefully ensuring to cup you gently not push. When a muscle in his thick thigh flexes that silky tongue chases the line it makes. 

The entire endeavor has his body awakening with anticipation, fighting the urge to pin you down and take what he wants now. It is ridiculous how such a simple act from his tawtute has him twitching with need but he loves seeing you this way. Letting your unbridled desire show, using his body the way that has always been your right. 

When you pull back, Ao’nung’s neck cranes to see the damage. And damage you can barely call it as there is the smallest purple spot blooming along his upper thigh. Tiny indents of teeth around it. 

It is nowhere near the possessive carnage of his own marks upon your lighter skin, in fact the change in color is hardly a contrast. But it’s his. Your adorable attempt at marking your territory is utterly his to treasure. His precious tawtute leaving the sweetest of gifts. 

“So pretty, paskalin.” He purrs, finger stroking through your scalp as he battles the urge to stick his tongue down your throat again. The pad of your thumb brushes over the mark, gaze just barely peeking up at him beneath your long lashes. 

His body can’t fight a jerk this time when you unexpectedly grab the base of his cock again. A reassuring smile is quickly plastered on his face when you look up at him in concern. The size of him is borderline comical in your hand. Cock practically the length of your forearm, it’s daunting to imagine what a tight fit it will be in your mouth. Equally erotic and nerve wracking to think of those sweet lips stretching around him. 

“Promise you’ll help me do it right?” You ask gently, as if you aren’t simultaneously stroking his twitching cock in one hand, precum already drizzling down between your fingers. 

“I promise. Stop worrying.” Ao’nung prays you don’t hear the waver in his voice. How unfair it is to expect him to answer your questions when it’s taking everything within him not to fuck up into your fist. “Just start with your tongue, precious. Let yourself taste.” 

He had meant for you to explore slowly, maybe start from the bottom and work your way up but it’s clear you’re out to kill him because instead your pink tongue immediately flicks at the head of his cock, right over the slit where a drop of precum rests. 

It’s a pure shot of electricity. 

And that’s when Ao’nung knows…he is in trouble. 

How did he not calculate for this? This is by far not the first time he has had a beautiful woman’s mouth running along him, but they had all been Metkayina women before you. Their tongues had a rougher texture, something enjoyable but entirely different to the silk-like surface of your own. It’s so soft it almost tickles.

He’s known this from the first time you kissed but somehow that never translated into how it would feel against his most sensitive parts. 

Mercy is not afforded to him. Like the good numeyu you are, his instructions are taken to heart as your tongue lathers along every inch of him. Sometimes shorter flicks of your tongue while others long strokes that travel from the base to tip. You are duteous in your task. Even going as far as running over his heavy balls hanging beneath. 

Great Mother above, he was not built to contain himself like this. 

Blown out pupils look up at him when you pull back. It’s impossible to miss the seated hunger in your gaze, but first and foremost you wait for him to guide you. There is a drop of his arousal resting at the corner of your lips innocently, already starting to glow as eclipse has set outside. 

Without thinking, Ao’nung finds his own thumb pressing at the dot to slip it back inside your mouth. The digit is accepted without question. Curiosity getting the better of him now, the prince presses his thumb down on your tongue. 

Obediently your jaw slacks and lips separate. The pad of his thumb drags over your silky tongue as his other fingers curl beneath your chin. Saliva coats the digit before Ao’nung softly presses your jaw closed. “Suck,” He instructs. 

Unlike with swimming you don’t question his methods. You suck hard enough to hollow your cheeks, presenting the perfect tools to imagine what it will feel like around his cock. “There you go. Breath through your nose, sevin.” 

You take every direction graciously, following each to a tee. By the time he pulls his thumb out with a pronounced pop sound, it has a line of saliva still connecting it to your lips. He can’t help himself. Ao’nung slides that wet thumb down between your legs and lets it brush over your clit. A choked sound echoes from your throat, clasping his shoulder as he reaches further down to confirm his suspicions. 

You are absolutely drenched. 

“I-I want to try,” your breathy voice rushes out. 

Biting back a moan, Ao’nung kisses your cheek before whispering, “Do as you wish.” 

With heavy lidded eyes, he lays back and watches you settle between his thighs again. There is less urgency this time, desire overriding your apprehension. Less timid now, you take his cock in hand and start to fit your lips around the head. The tip is barely past your lips before you are emulating the ministrations he had taught you on his thumb. Cheeks hollowed and tongue running wild, you suck the very life out of him. 

“Precious precious,” Ao’nung gasps out, pulling your head off of him. “Not yet, sweetheart. Not yet.” 

His body thrums from the aftershock. Too much all at once. “Let’s focus on getting me in that pretty mouth first, hm?” 

“Sorry,” You mumble, already pulling back but Ao’nung pushes your head forward again. 

“Don’t apologize, sevin. You are being so good for me.” Wrapped in his praise you lower down around him slower this time. 

Just fitting the head inside is already a mouthful, something he tries to keep in mind as his hips are begging to buck up into your sweet cavern. It feels like being wrapped in satin. That perfectly hot wet cocoon of your mouth encircling his cock as if it was made for him. Not even halfway down and he can just barely feel the back of your throat. 

Ao’nung keeps you positioned there, not wanting to push you too far yet. He makes the mistake of looking down, however, and that image alone has his balls drawing up, dangerously close to the edge. Your pink lips stretched to their limit, such a beautiful contrast to sparkling eyes that peek up at him for approval. An absolute masterpiece. 

A shudder ripples forward when you suddenly pull off of him. “It won’t fit,” you pout. 

As if the situation isn’t already enough, those deceptively sweet words have the filthiest of fantasies running through his head. 

“That’s alright. You can use your hand for the rest.” He prompts. 

The advice helps when you lower down again, fisting what you can of the rest with your hand but even then it won’t cover all of him. “Now you can try your tongue, sevin. Just like I taught you.” 

But the way your tongue incidentally rides the vein on the underside of his cock is far more than what he taught you. It’s only his reaction that has you less oblivious to its sensitivities. Ao’nung lungs suck in air sharply, the concave of his stomach accenting the x shape of his ribs. 

“Am I hurting you?” You ask, abruptly rearing off of him. Those beautiful features are painted with such genuine concern Ao’nung is caught between laughing at your innocence and growling in need. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean-”

“You are so far from hurting me, precious.” Voice thickening with something carnal, Ao’nung pins you with ocean blue eyes. “That pretty mouth feels so good around me. Let me feel it again, paskalin.” 

The words strike you hard, plummeting you into a daze-like state as you softly follow the push of his hand. Whatever worries you have dissipate, too focused on getting him to gasp like that again. And it turns out such filthy words are exactly what you need when he is nestled in your heat, wide eyes crinkling with glee. 

“There we go. Now suck, sweetheart.” 

It takes little encouragement for your compliance. Even the small directions of how hard to suck, where to lap your tongue is ardently followed. Less experienced you may be but your obedience makes up for it ten fold. And then you are following him down into the thick haze of desire. Nostrils flaring, your head starts lowering down to take him deeper. 

Despite his flaring desire to watch you choke on him, Ao’nung hesitates. You’re fragile. This isn’t like the other women he has been intimate with. Throwing you around, using you too harshly, can come with consequences. Push too hard and he may just break you, making this an experience you never wish to repeat. 

But then his cerulean eyes catch a glimpse of your thighs, the way they squeeze together. That tantalizing essence is thick in the air, even more so when you begin rutting against the fabric like an animal in heat. There is still a slyness to your movements that tell him you’re trying not to get caught, but it’s too late. 

You are enjoying this just as much as him, big wide eyes begging for more. 

And so more you will get.

“You want my cock down your throat. Don’t you, sweetheart?” 

The hum you give in response not only confirms his theories but lights every pleasure center in his brain. A growl rumbles in his chest. “Of course you do, because you’re a good fucking girl, aren’t you?”

Another whine around him and Ao’nung’s toes are curling against the hammock. He fists the base of your ponytail and both of your hands position themselves at his hips, blunt nails digging in. “Then do as I say, sevin. Relax that throat and let me in.” 

The first time he slinks past the back of your throat, your gag reflex kicks in dramatically. Immediately he pulls out to allow you a ragged breath but before he can ask if you’re alright, your hands are clawing at his hips and trying to pull him back in. Ao’nung doesn’t need to be told twice. 

The pattern continues. His hips draw forward a little more each time until the choking seems to be too much and Ao’nung draws back to allow you air. Each time he is rewarded with the view of your sinfully debauched state. Lips ruby red, a mixture of his precum and saliva glossing over them, and blown out pupils lazily staring up at him. 

You’re a quick learner. It’s easy to fall into a rhythm of this pattern. It comes to a point where you are efficient in taking a deep breath before he is spearing down your throat again. Until it can be done faster and faster. Until he has almost three quarters of his length encompassed and able to thrust a couple times before needing to pull back. 

“Fuck, precious!” He groans, feet already planting against the hammock’s surface. “My perfect little cocksucker.” 

Those words spurs a new energy through you. When he comes to pop out after a couple thrusts, you snag his hip and give him a look. A silent communication that tells him all he needs to know. And by Eywa, it could not come at a better time. He is hanging just over the edge of release. It’s unclear how much longer he can keep that beast inside of him caged. 

So when you pull back for one last breath, his grip tightens on your hair and Ao’nung hips finally snap up with vigor. You take it like a champ, choking and drooling but eagerly pushing him to fuck down your throat. Those little ruts against the hammock becoming even more desperate with every growled moan he releases. 

“So fucking perfect.” He growls out between clenched teeth. The last tangible sound before his hips are ricketting sporadically and his balls are drawing up against him. Ao’nung finishes with his head thrown back. A position that only lasts for a moment as he quickly remembers to look down and watch the way you choke around him. He doesn’t fight it when you pull back and the rest of his spend lands across your jaw and collarbones. 

Now caught in his own daze, the prince hazily savors the masterpiece before him. Tears glossing over your eyes, abused lips parted, and his bioluminescent cum painting your satin like skin. If only there was a way to keep this image tucked away in his pocket forever. 

Coming down from his high, Ao’nung feels a tinge of guilt when he surveys your state. That is, until he catches another whiff of your arousal and watches a dopey grin trace your lips. For the first time in perhaps forever, he finds himself speechless. 

That grin dampens down in the silence, however. Chest still heaving for air you nervously ask, “Was it…good?” 

Nothing more than a raspy whisper but your concern is pure. 

Ao’nung is baffled. Wholly bewildered at how you can sit there with his sperm still dripping down your breasts and sincerely ask him such a question. 

He’s going to kill that pathetic man, that is for certain. Rip apart the one person that ever dared to make you question such a thing. The man that made you feel like anything less than a goddess. 

“Good?” He asks, slowly rising to sit up. You bite your bottom lip. “Oh precious, you aren’t good.” Ao’nung’s thick tail swerves behind him when he settles onto his knees, hands clasping your hips. “You are addicting. My perfect unraveling.” 

If he wasn’t so impatient he would savor the way your breath catches and eyes sparkle in delight. But he only sees it for a second before you are manhandled onto your back with a squeak and he is bullying his head between your squishy thighs. 

“Spread those pretty legs, tawtute. It’s my turn to taste.”

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[m1tsu-ki]

BEEN WAITING FOR THIS BESTIE

The Selection 

Chapter 1 

Paring: Neteyam x Fem!Tawakmi!Reader

Warnings: nothing really, just flirting, some eye contact

Word Count: 4.6k

Disclaimer: All my characters are aged up! If that bothers you, feel free the scroll and do not interact with my account or any of my post!

Index: hì’i ‘aw - little one, kelku – house, Ma ite – my daughter, sa’nu – mommy, sa’nok - mother

~ Hi everyone I know I disappeared on you guys for a sec I’m back! Please give me some feedback this is my first series and I’d love all of your input! Feel free to comment or private message me any suggestions you might have for the series or what direction you all would be interested in reading about it going! That you so much for your support and patience!

Series M.List | Main M.List

To say you were nervous would be an understatement, you were terrified, of leaving you parents, your siblings, it was all irritating terrifying. You were upon Omatikaya territory, their forest was so different from yours, but you could not see it up close. you sat on your mother’s ikran, and you father’s held all of your stuff. You can’t imagine not going home to see them every day, but you could not change your mind now, it was well passed the time for that.

you felt a bit sticky from the travels the air felt different, smelt different, you watched the beauty of your forest change to a completely different kind of beauty in a different part of the forest. You can begin to imagine what this competition must be like; would you have to fight? You hoped not, it was not something you were fond of. Not because you didn’t like to but back in your clan people learned not to pick fights with you due to your habit of raging out.

The goodbye to your brothers were sorrowful, you missed them already and it hasn't even been a week, you do not know how you are going to go 6 months without your family. Thank Eywa for your iPad. You hold on to your mother as she descends her ikran, and your father follows. They both hope off and you follow. You see the clan is bustling in the sunny day but you are not quite there. Your mother had sent down a few minutes' walk from the clan with the other woman and their families who are in the competition.

Almost immediately the awes start when the girls see you, but you pay no mind to it, in this moment you want to be with your family, you want to be present. You can hear the music from the clan playing and it was slightly distracting. Your father pulled the three heavy trunks full of your stuff off his ikran before coming to join you and your mother.

Your thoughts are quickly broken by the voice of a man in front of all of you. The girls form a semi-circle with their families around no other than Toruk Makto. “Oel Ngati Kameie, I welcome you all to the Omatikaya Clan.” you all make the respectful ‘I see you’ gesture to him and he continues to talk, “This is the first time our clan will hold these games, but I assure you, they are all safe. I must put your minds and the minds of your children at ease, so without further ado, meet my son Neteyam Te Suli Tsyeyk’itan.” Neteyam steps up next to his father, you didn’t realize before, but he was always standing there. Along with his brother Lo’ak and Korra, two other girls who looked younger and who you assume was his mother.

Neteyam was handsome, he was tall and built like a true warrior. His gaze was hardened as it passed around to the women standing before it, you almost made an effort to fix your hair, but you didn’t want to look desperate, he was not the only one who had people falling to their feet. But you could not deny how incredible he looked, like Eywa herself crafted him, which is something many say about you.

Your eyes dart to Lo’ak and Korra and she gave you a quick wave and a smile and you retuned it with a small smile. Your mother’s arms were wrapped around your shoulders and your father stood beside her, slightly behind you. She tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear and raised your head then he saw you. Neteyam knew that Lo’ak and Korra where excited to see you but he couldn’t believe you were actually standing there.

Neteyam never thought you would agree to compete for the hand of some random stranger when you could have anyone at your side his brain was lagging. His eyes almost popped out of his head when he laid eyes on your beauty. The other women watched Neteyam like a hawk, they saw the way he looked at you and instantly they had an issue, they felt you had an unfair advantage. But one of the greatest things about your demeanor is you never really cared what other people thought of you.

You sigh your eyes tracing the branches above, you knew this part would be weird, the part where he looked at all of you, you felt insecure to say the least, being silently compared to other girls, you couldn’t imagine how they must feel being compared to you.

“This is the man you all will but entering the games for, and I can assure you all, the Omatikayan people will keep you safe in your stay. Now come, any questions can be answered let us give you all a tour of where you girls will be staying.”

You sighed and turned to your mom, “When are you leaving?”

“After the introduction ma ite, do not fret” she tucked some of your curls behind your ear and turned you around to follow the girls, “We will be here when you get back” you walk behind the other girls slowly talking in the scenery around you, when you make it to Korra and Lo’ak you slowed down, “Are you coming?” you asked her softly and she nodded gesturing you to walk.

She was quick to keep pace with you, “How do you feel?” she asked softly as you made your way to the village entrance. “I am not sure, nervous, I feel a bit distant from this whole thing, I do not think it really hit me, yet I will be far away from home alone for the first time” you giggle softly. “You are not alone, you have us. I can introduce you to my friends if you would like?” you nodded smiling at her kindness. You made it to the village and your steps falter.

You admired the trimmings on every branch, the attention to detail in the clan was breathtaking, the kelkus were so well constructed they looked incredibly sturdy and big compared to the ones back in your home clan. You found yourself spinning trying to take in everything, your attention span was not helping you. You moved to walk forward, and a little girl ran right in front of you catching your eye, you looked back and saw the group of girls just as captivated as you by the surrounding. You turned back to the young girl and saw she had fallen. You gasp softly but rushing to her side.

She couldn't have been more than 5 years old. You dropped down to her level and picked her up to stand, you dusted off her knees, “Are you alright hì’i ‘aw?” she sniffled softly as she held onto your shoulder to balance herself and nodded, “Where is your sa’nok?” you ask her softly and she looked around and didn’t see her, “I was following her and I fell now I lost her” her tears her about to burst this poor little thing. “Do not cry how about we go find her? Do you remember where she was going?” the little girl just shook her head.

You brushed her hair behind her ear and wiped her tears still holding her hand you stand up and look around for someone to help you. You had long forgotten the group of girls moving on to the next part of the clan and you feel a tap on your shoulder. When you turn you come face to face with a chest. You look up and find the man standing in front of you is no other than Neteyam, “Is something wrong? I noticed you were not with the group” his voice was smooth, it was embarrassing how easily hearing him speak made you weak, his voice and his face matched perfectly.

“Yea, this little girl fell and lose her mother, and I offer to help her without knowing where to go?” you smile awkwardly. Neteyam darted his eyes down to the small girl and back up to you, “Her mother is a harvester, she must be in the garden area, I can show you if you’d like so we can take her back to her mother.”

“What about the tour?” you ask him softly, “You will be here for the next month at least, maybe more, you will learn your way around, you can always ask.” you smile softly at his reassuring words and told him to lead the way. You speak to the little girl as you walked and Neteyam was on the other side of her, you learned her name was Saki and she was only 5 years old. You couldn't help but glance at Neteyam every now and them, when he would help Saki over a log then hold his hand out to help you. When he would hold down the bigger leaves so you can walk through easily, everything about it, about him felt, so calming and strong.

It made you wonder why he hasn’t chosen a mate before now; you figured the war had something to do with it, but you didn’t know if it was the whole reason. The little girl ran up to her mother who processed to thank you both. You smiled and greeted her respectful telling her it was no problem.

Your turned to walk back now alone with him. You felt a bit awkward being alone with him, you weren’t sure what to say, thankfully he broke the silence, “So, I have heard your music, you are incredible talented, I'm tempted to ask why you agreed to be a part of something you might not be chosen for, you could have anyone you wanted” his voice was soft as he spoke to you, with such gentle intend as if his words would offend you.

“I could say the same about you having anyone you want, I am here because you brother and his wife, your sister asked me very kindly to be here, they made it sound like you were worth my time” he chuckled at your statement which made you smile, your knees almost buckled. “I am afraid I may not live up to the expectation” he said softly.

“We will just have to find out Neteyam, it was a pleasure to meet you and thank you for helping me with that young girl. I just could not leave her alone” you say softly while you smile, “It was my pleasure I’m glad you agreed to the games, I did not believe my brother at first when he told me he had asked you and you agreed, I look forward to getting to know you” Neteyam softly picked up your hand and kissed it looking you in the eye.

Lucky for you, you mastered the art of having good composure and you smile sweetly down at him even though you could hear you heart in your ears, “I look forward to getting to know you too Neteyam” you say softly. He led you back to the group where they were being given the tour of where we would all be staying.

The Sully’s had their own grand hut. It was high up in one of the bigger trees in one of the kelku areas. Other huts sat on lower parts of other trees, but they all hung beautifully, some even sat on the floor below other kelkus. You admired the intricate carvings that each hut had; the very well stable structures you wondered how they even got them so high up in the trees. On top of that, there was not a ladder in sight, only ropes that hung down and branched that situated at stairs.

I craned my neck looking up at the sully kelku. When Jake grabbed our attention, “Ok ladies, given that this is a strange place for you all and to ensure your safety personally, you will all be staying on the upper level of our kelku. The stairs you see connecting the lower level to the higher will be your way up and down. Currently, it is generally one big room, so each of you will have a corner in the room with a bed and space for your things, the bathroom and kitchen area are on the lower level and communal dinners are held once a week, you all must attend unless you have a legitimate reason.” he concluded.

You sighed softly as you dropped my head, you have to live in the same room as the girls you are competing against, that sounds like a great idea. As if the other girls had the same thought process you heard them sigh as well with small groans which made you cover your mouth and smile.

Jake ended up showing you all where the healer’s tent was and introducing you all to Tsahìk Mo’at, Neteyam’s grandmother. He also introduced you to his wife, Neytiri, she was a beautiful warrior, walked with poise and power. Her aura was one of fierce fearlessness and elegant beauty. Then lastly, Neteyam’s younger sisters were introduced, their third born Kiri and their youngest Tuktirey who had a striking resemblance to her mother.

You don’t remember much from the tour only where to find the healer’s tent and where you’ll be sleeping thought you didn’t know which bed is yours yet. You happily made you way back to your parents, skipping quickly towards them when they were in sight. “Sa’nu, can’t you stay a while longer? I already have to be alone for Eywa knows how long, when will I see you both next?”

“Ma ite, you will be fine, please keep an open mind, you are smart and kind and he will be lucky to call you his, my opinion is biased but you are by far the most beautiful girl here, and we are so proud of you for doing this. Be brave and be strong. I am sorry we cannot stay longer; the journey is just too far for us to delay it.” your father spoke up holding your face gently in his hands.

You sighed into his arms softly looking up at him. You already missed him; your father has never once left you to fend for yourself, but he surely did teach you and your brothers how. You considered yourself very highly trained because of this but it was not what you are known for across pandora, so you kept it to yourself.

You were about to speak up when someone cleared their throat behind you. It was Jake Sully and his wife. You spun on your heels and backed into your taller parents. “I see you Toruk Makto, Neytiri” your father greeted them respectfully and your mother followed.

“I see you olo’eyktan of the Tawkami clan. I am glad your daughter has agreed to be apart of the games for my boy. I just wanted to personally assure you like I have done with the other parents; your daughter is in capable hands. I understand the journey from tedious and we appreciate the trust you have put into us and our clan”

“Ah, Jake Sully, I am not worried for my daughter’s safety I am aware she will be well cared for, and she can more than fend for herself I am sure of it. We will not be able to visit as much as the other clans but please do not hesitate to send for us if you must. Our children are always our priority, it is something I am sure you understand” your father spoke to him. It was nice seeing them be polite to each other, if neteyam does end up choosing you, you wouldn’t have to worry about bad in-laws.

You took a long breath as you watched your parents flew away into the beautiful sunset. You couldn’t stop your tears when they were departing, and you stared until they disappeared as if you were scared to turn around and face this new situation. Someone had taken your stuff up to the room you’d be staying in, so you had nothing on you. A small tap on your shoulder grabbed your attention, quickly swiping your face you turn to one of the girls, Ni’alu she is a healer for the Olangi clan.

“I see you” she greeted you respectfully and I returned the favor, “you must be the famous y/n, it is a pleasure to meet you, my name is-”

“Ni’alu, I remember from the emailer introductions, it is a pleasure to meet you as well, you have a lovely name” I smile at her softly, she was a kind woman, slim and had long hair, almost the same length as yours but straight instead of curly. She wore a beautiful red chest cover with a loincloth that had matching feathers hanging down the side of her thigh, she was definitely dressing to impress, she looks gorgeous.

You did not try nearly as hard. Your loincloth and matching top were a pretty color lilac, with a sting of beads hanging around your stomach in lilac and white. It was not as fancy as how the other girls decided to dress but your journey was longer, so you choose comfort. “Shall we get cleaned up for dinner?” I asked her politely and she nodded.

You and Ni’alu walked together to the sully kelku where all the other girls plus the family had gone to get ready for the communal dinner. You watched as the girls climbed up the tree to the kelku, Ma’via was exceptional in this. She is a hunter, part of the Kekunun clan. Though it shouldn’t surprise you, she must do a lot of climbing in the mountains.

Ma’via wore clothes thicker than the other clans did, you assumed it was because of the lower temperatures in the mountains. She was taller than the rest of you, supposedly a very strong hunter. She wore a clean white fur chest cover, the sleeves feel off her shoulders and she wore brown wooden jewelry. Her hair was twisted into long neat looking dreads. Her loincloth was plain, and she had the fur draped over her hips like a high-low skirt. She looked ethereal, strong beautiful woman, one made to rule her clan one day.

By the time we all made it to the top, I held my hand out to help Ni’alu off the last branch and onto the woven floor, the kelku was so cozy, you saw private rooms for all of the sully children to the left of the living space under the stairs that lead to where you and the girls would stay, with drawn curtains separating them from the rest of the living space. Jake and Neytiri also had their own space towards the back of the kelku and all their entryways to the rooms were situated right next to each other cutely, you knew who each room belonged to by the cute planks with scrappy hand writing that had each of their names on it. No doubt made by Tuk.

It made you smile when you saw Korra’s name next to Lo’ak’s on their room. They were so close as a family lo’ak never found a reason to move out. It spoke a lot about the kind of people they are. Korra as an outsider would not put up a front if they made her uncomfortable, she would have made lo’ak move out. Maybe this wasn’t a bad family to marry into.

“Ok girls, when you need to shower, we have private hot springs behind the tree for you all to use, it is secluded and no one else in the clan is allowed to use them so you all can feel at ease.” Neytiri smiled at all of you.

Another girl who was standing next to you spoke up, Lei’wa of the Tanrangi clan. She had short wavy hair, her chest cover and loincloth were a pretty color green that made her skin look radiant. She had beads through out small sections of her hair, she was absolutely stunning and didn’t look like the harden warrior she parents made her out to be, but you had no doubt she was. “I really need to bath”

“Me too girl I feel gross after that journey, I’m y/n by the way” I smiled at her and greeted her with my hands to my forehead.

She hesitated but did return the gesture, she smiled at you as she said “I know who you are, who doesn’t?”

“Fair point…”

You weren’t sure how to respond to her dry demeanor you were only trying to be nice. You didn’t want to hate these girls, for all you knew you’d be around them for the next few months. You walked up the stairs with the other girls and got situated for dinner. You all had small dividers that gave you some privacy, but everything was out there not that it bothered you. Growing up with brothers was much worse than whatever these girls could possibly do, or so you thought.

The communal dinner was beautiful. The clan gathered and it was the first time you really saw them in their numbers. You knew the omatikaya had lost a significant amount of people during the war against the sky people but the clan was still three times bigger than yours at least. The way they sat together, families and children running about it was all so domestic. Everyone knew each other, they spoke to each other as if they were all one big family and they in fact were. The Omatikaya have always considered themselves as one. You know Neteyam will have his work cut out for him when he does take up the mantle of olo’eyktan. Being the eldest yourself however, you knew exactly what kind of pressure that was. By the looks of it Neteyam was already well loved by the people. Tonight, he was tasked with sharing out food wrapped in the leaves for everyone, every similar to how your clan does it.

You were about to offer your help but it seemed the competitions have already started, you saw Lei’wa and Ma’via already on both if his sides, smiling sweetly as they helped him distribute. You almost rolled your eyes at that, but Ni’alu caught on and sniffled a laugh.

“What’s so funny?” You whipped you head to look at her.

“Nothing, they just all up on him already I thought the games don’t start until tomorrow” she giggled harder.

“I know, why aren’t you more upset? That is potentially your man they wanna crawl up on” you smile at her playfully, you felt a bump on your shoulder on the other side of you and turned to see Korra sporting the same smile at you.

“Shouldn’t you be upset to? That logic also applies to you” she giggled with her hand in her hip. We all ended up laughing over the situation for a bit as we made our way to join the line.

“Good point but we’re talking about Ni’alu right now” you giggle. Korra shook her head before turning her attention Ni’alu who stood staring at the girls, “maybe you should do something to get his attention” Korra said.

“Who her? Or me?” You ask her. “Either one doesn’t matter…he has to spend time with all of you, can’t let them keep him to themselves” you thought about what she said for a second and she’s right, you didn’t want to seem desperate, but Neteyam was so….you couldn’t even describe it something about his demeanor just pulled you in. You’ve barely spoken two words to him, but you definitely want to get to know him.

Watching those girls be all up on him did bother you a bit but it wasn’t enough for you to make a fool of yourself trying to get his attention. “I’m hungry and tired, can we eat so I can go to bed” the girls giggled at your words, and both joined the line with you.

When you were standing in front of the three you greeted them respectfully, you let your eyes linger slightly on Neteyam and you know he noticed from the way he held eye contact with you as you slowly stepped away before you broke it and sat down next to Ni’alu.

The way his golden eyes flickered on you made your heart beat a little faster. You almost felt heat coming off him, as if he were standing closer to you than he actually was. The way he held eye contact with you so fearlessly like he didn’t even care the other girls were staring at the interaction with distain. But who could really blame him? He was looking at you. His eyes were undeniably beautiful; you could only wish to get a closer view, and you will.

Dinner commenced and it was incredibly lively, your clan only got like this when their was a celebration taking place but you learnt quickly the Omatikaya celebrate life daily, they never take a day for granted. There was singing and dancing, chanting to Eywa to bless the clan and its people it was all such a moving experience to be apart of Omatikayan rituals, you felt so connected to the way they expressed themselves you couldn’t wait to learn what you could about the clan.

The music was so powerful, it vibrated your soul and the melodies voices that sung to Eywa, you couldn’t help but sing along to the songs you knew to Eywa. What really shocked you though was when one of the Omatikayan girls who volunteered to perform tonight started singing a song all to familiar to you, a song you wrote with feelings from your heart. She started singing one of your older songs, one of the first actually. It was the based off your parents and the love they had for each other.

She started singing, ‘You’re still the one’

She sang sweetly to her husband who sat staring at her with heart eyes. You couldn’t help but have the biggest smile on your face knowing your music touched their hearts enough for her to express her love in this way. It made you so happy knowing she could relate to someone she loves so much without shame of showing it off.

You sing along softly to the chorus and swayed side to side with Ni’alu as she also hummed along. Your eyes drifted through the crowd catching small glimpse of couples hugging each other, families with their kids, the overall affection in the air made you giddy.

Your eyes darted from person to person until you were once again met with Neteyam’s golden eyes. He sat across from you with his family on the other side of the big fireplace in the middle of the clan. You almost blushed when you realized he was already staring at you while you were busy admiring his clan, he picked at the food in his leaf without looking away from you.

You continued eating slowly just like him while occasionally singing the lyrics but this time, you never broke eye contact with him, the song came to its end with sweet cheers and clapping for the young girl. Still though you looked at Neteyam as if he was the only person by the fire with you. It was almost intimate the way he stared into your eyes through the strands of your curly hair that fell, framing your face heavenly. It was not until Lo’ak nudged his brother did he break eye contact with you. You admired him for a second the way he turned to his brother before you dropped your head and finished you meal. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea you decided to come here after all.

🪸I want to thank everyone for your patience! I love you all and I’m so glad you all are still around for this! I missed you so much! I’m not sure how much I like this chapter but it is the first. Please any feedback or ideas are welcome! Reblogs, likes and comments are always appreciated!

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[m1tsu-ki]

Patterns of Your Love

Neteyam x Human!Reader

✨Friendly Disclaimer: The content of this story contains aged-up characters! If this is something that makes you uncomfortable, please feel free to click or scroll away. The last thing I want is for anyone to read something they are uncomfortable with, however if you decide to interact with any negativity, you will be blocked from my blog as a result.

WARNINGS: 🔞MINORS DNI🔞, SMUT including fingering,thigh riding, p in v/m&f intercourse, dirty talk, pet names, size difference, interspecies relationship, alien genitalia

Word count~4340 Art work created by @zeroseydorum

The heat of the Pandoran sun radiated through the thick branches of the trees above where you and Neteyam laid in the plush grass of the forest. Neteyam’s eyes were closed, muscles relaxed as he allowed your small form to lay across his chest, his comparably large hand supporting your waist, caressing your side gently with a thumb. You were propped up on your forearms staring down at him intently, counting each of his calming breaths, noting the small occasional hums he would let slip as he exhaled. Your eyes drifted to his long braids, splayed out in the grass around his head like separate coinciding streams of water.  A sliver of sunlight painted in a diagonal line across his face. Everything about him seemed so perfect. One of the things that had immediately caught your eyes about him was his stripes. They seemed thicker in comparison to the other na’vi. Decorating his body so beautifully. Every stripe seemed purposeful. Your eyes lingered on the angled pattern on his forehead, following their flow of movement across his face. With careful fingers you raise your hand, gently gliding the tips of your fingers along his cheekbone, tracing the stripe toward the center of his face until it trails off before moving your hand up toward his forehead. Stretching your index and middle fingers apart, you place them at his hairline then slowly move them down, following the slanted lines of his stripes, progressively closing your fingers as you reach the place in the center of his brow bone. A low hum rumbled in Neteyam’s throat as your fingers repeated the action, your own mind transfixed on him, ”That feels nice…” his voice breaks the silence in a smooth whisper, a relaxed smile growing on his lips, “Does it?” you whisper back, reflecting his own smile. Your question is met with a satisfied hum in response, prompting you to repeat the action a few more times, watching Neteyam relax further under your touch. Your hand drifts down toward his chest, fingers immediately caressing the thick stripes along his pectoral, noting the brief hitch in Neteyam’s breathing as your feathery touches move across his skin. 

“What are you doing?” He asks with a slight chuckle in his voice, finally opening his eyes to look down at you. Your eyes meet his for a brief moment, returning his smile before glancing back down at the pattern on his skin, “Your stripes are so pretty” you reply, trailing your fingers down the center of his chest, noticing how his muscles tense slightly at your actions causing you to quirk a curious brow, “Is my big, mighty warrior sensitive?” You chuckle with a playful smirk. Neteyam moves his hand to caress your jaw carefully, shifting your gaze back to his own, his thumb wanting to press over your lips, mentally cursing the oxygen mask that guarded your face, “Do not tease me, little one” Neteyam scolds you with his own playful smile, “Besides… You know full well what you do to me.”. Your gaze fell from his face to his body once more, admiring his azure skin with your finger tips. As his chest faltered a bit from his shaky breath, a new idea formed in your mind. You shifted your gaze to the side of his head, where his nearly bunny-like ears flicked absentmindedly. Carefully you shift your weight forward, just enough to place your hands by the sides of his head without having to strain. Just as carefully you allow your hands to gently cup the Na’vi’s long ears, which flick a bit in response at the touch. “My yawne…” Neteyam warns in a low purr, his eyes now watching you closely in attempts to perhaps read your mind on whatever scheme you had conjured, “What are you thinking, little one?”, “Just… testing a quick theory” you whisper semi focused as you try to hide your smirk. The moment your thumb and index fingers shift to lightly pinch his ears, you get a reaction you would never expect from him; a shaky gasp sounds in the air, his muscles tighten beneath you just as his hands move to encompass your backside, holding you impossibly close to him. His ears now hot beneath the pads of your fingers.

Your lips loosen as you finally allow a giggle to break through them, giving another brush of your thumbs along his ears that sends shivers down Neteyam’s spine, delight painting your features while watching his eyes roll and flutter shut, only briefly. Although there is nothing particularly erotic about the rubbing of his ears, the expression and now sudden shift in the rising and falling of his chest, has your mind wandering elsewhere. Swinging a leg over his slim waist and placing your palms on his chest to steady yourself, you peer down at him with a feline smirk, “So the big tough kitty really is sensitive.”. When Neteyam’s eyes meet yours, his pupils are dilated, glazed with a softness you only ever see him give you and yet… you could swear part of that look held some sort of primal challenge. It’s when his large hands snake up your thighs that you understand the meaning of that look, “Perhaps… although aren’t humans more sensitive than na’vi?” He hums, purposely drawing out the words as his fingers purposefully caress your thighs as they make their way up to your hips, his thumbs massaging the divots there with the type of predatory gentleness that makes your pulse quicken. 

“Your skin is much softer… your bodies are squishier…” Neteyam purrs, perhaps more to himself as his amber eyes follow the trailing of his hands whilst they give your hips a gentle squeeze before slowly moving upward, pushing beneath the fabric of your shirt to run his thumbs along your ribs, just under your breasts. His ears perk when the sound of your exo-pack mask enhances the sound of your staggered breathing, pulling the edge of his lips into a smirk, “See?”. You pull back out of his reach crossing your are over your chest defiantly, “What? You expect me not to react when you’re…” Neteyam cocks his head to the side, that same predatory look gleaming in his eyes. You blow out a hot breath in a fleeting attempt to slow your heart rate, momentarily fogging the glass of your mask, “Stop looking at me like that.”. 

Neteyam chuckles, shifting his weight to anchor himself onto his elbows, simultaneously causing you to adjust your own weight as well to stop you from slipping down his abs. The position mimicking that of a lion getting ready to pounce, “And how, tawtute, am I looking at you?”, “Like a cat toying with its meal before devouring it.” You huff out a nervous laugh, noting the way he leans to one side to allow one of his arms free to cup your lower back, his thumb trailing along your spine, his face coming ever so slightly closer to yours, “Is that what my sky dancer wishes? To be devoured?” Not ‘sky person’, but ‘dancer’ because you were not a human fueled by greed or destruction. You were soft, gentle, free spirited, and his. 

Yet as you stammer trying to find the words, Neteyam leans closer until his lips meet with the column of your throat, extinguishing your tongue of any protest or comeback you would’ve conjured and leaving it with only the ability to sigh, leaning into his touch, your fingers instinctually weaving through his braids. His hold on your lower back remains firm as he carefully shifts into a sitting position, his other hand holding the side of your face, to which you have zero hesitation in leaning into the warmth of his palm, presenting more of your neck to him. A low sultry purr answers your gesture in thanks as his lips begin leaving kiss after wet kiss along your throat while his hand at your lower back drifts up your torso, proceeding his conquest in teasing the underside of your breast. Your breath catches for a moment and Neteyam’s lips ascend to your ear, his exhale against it causing you to shiver, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth, “Shall we see what noises I can squeeze out of you?” Neteyam whispers, his hand making the shift to finally touch your aching breast, his fingers tracing along its peak before giving it an experimental squeeze to emphasize his words. 

Your lips part as the warmth of his palm encompasses your mound, his calluses pulling at the sensitive skin of your peaked nipple with the motion in a way that has you immediately biting your lip again. A thud sounds from behind Neteyam at the impatient bat of his tail against the ground. While he was no stranger to this song and dance of trying to coax the most delicious sounds from you, it still made him somewhat annoyed when he didn’t get immediate results for his excursions. “How my sky dancer loves to play…” Neteyam murmurs against the skin of your neck, dragging his lips down to the peak of your collarbone, “Play as you like, yawne. I will have you singing soon enough.” he purrs, giving your breast in his hand a more assertive squeeze as his tongue glides back up the column of your throat, the fangs of his bottom jaw dragging slightly, in a way that has your body arching into him in response, finally drawing a sweet, lust coated whimper from your lips. You can feel Neteyam's satisfied smirk against your neck, as well as that same satisfaction forming into a firmness that is now pressing into you as you sit on his lap, “Miklor…”(beautiful sounding). Fuck if hearing him speak his mother tongue didn't instantly turn you into a puddle, then the clenching of your core would definitely do the trick. The growing need to have him impossibly closer, touching every inch of you, filling you, ebbed at the corners of your mind, beckoning desire to the forefront that had you squirming against the hardness that pressed against your clothed ass. The seam of your shorts grinding so deliciously against the thin fabric of his loincloth had Neteyam huffing out a ragged breath that sent a chill down your spine. Neteyam's hand pressed at your lower back, held you firmly against him, whilst the middle finger of his hand that remained under your shirt stroked tight, lazy circles around the perked bud of your breast, his mouth busy with adorning your neck in love bites for you to return to the lab with later, all of it dousing your body in heat, you wouldn't be surprised if the blood in your veins had become molten lava, “Teyam…” you coo, fisting your hands in his braids, a low purr rumbling in his chest at the sound, before using your hold on his braids to urge him back and off your neck, “No more playing,” you whisper breathlessly, wining your hips against him for emphasis, “please.”. He needed no further explanation of your wants, yet his eyes took in your body, possibilities of how this could go painting a string of pictures in his mind, by the hungry look in them. “Stand for me, ma'yawntu. Strip.” The command coming out gentle on his tongue as you watched you rise, his hand drifting behind himself to untie the knot of his loincloth, the minute your skin left his, his eyes never leaving your own for a moment, even as he tossed the flimsy garment to the side, perching to sit on his knees as he gave himself a long and slow stroke. 

You swallowed the excess saliva that had manifested in your mouth at the sight as your hands moved to first remove your top, then your shoes, moving slowly in an effort to give him a good show. As you moved to remove your panties along with your shorts, Neteyam’s “No,” halted your movments, “Leave those for me.”. You obliged him, stepping out of your shorts and walking between his parted knees, Neteyam's hands instinctively reaching up to guide you, resting on your hips, pulling you closer until his lips met with your soft stomach. His thumbs slide over the band of your panties whilst he continue to leave kisses along your belly, his eyes lifting toward your own for only a moment, before his fingers delicately looping around the top of your panties, before pulling them gently down your legs. The scent of your bare arousal was enough to send a shiver through Neteyam’s spine, making his body go rigid, as his eyes rolled back before closing, his teeth nipping lovingly at your stomach that despite his restraint, had you yelping with slight surprise. “You complain a lot about my own playing, when you can't even seem to stop, yourself.” you protest, shifting your hips to avert his attention from your stomach down to the aching between your thighs. You hadn't even registered that one of Neteyam's hands had drifted down your leg, until you felt his calloused fingertips smoothing over your inner thigh, traveling higher and higher until two of them glide through your wet folds, just enough to part them.

Your pulse immediately jumps, your hands anchoring on his shoulders to steady yourself, “Mmn, but it is so fun to watch you squirm, yawne. It delights me to see my mate act so needy for me.” Neteyam purrs, dragging the lubricated fingers over your clit, slowly circling it whilst your hips buck at the touch, the nerves in your thighs demanding to close, which takes nearly every muscle in your body not to obey; to let Neteyam swirl your bundle of nerves and whined the forming knot in your stomach tighter, the mental leash you had on your vocal cords long forgotten, relinquishing sweet music for Neteyam's ears. “Awe, my sweet mate makes such pretty noises… tell me how good it feels, yawne.”. Your mind seems full of static, only being able to process the feeling of his fingers, the tightening in your core, your only response being to chase his fingers by swaying your hips along with him. “Uh- uh… use that pretty voice, love.” he urges, poking at your entrance with his fingertips for extra motivation. You swallow thickly, trying to steady your breathing as to try to make your voice as clear as possible, yet to no avail as your words come out nearly trembling, “It feels so good Teyam, I…I can hardly keep standing like this.”, “Oh?” and with that his fingers submerge themselves into your soaked cunt, scissoring twice to help with the stretch. The sound that breaks from you is like a song from the great mother herself, your fingernails digging into the blue muscles of his shoulder as your hips instinctively move against his hand, “More… more…”, “You want more, yawne? I've hardly started… so greedy.” Neteyam hums not sounding at all upset as his fingers curl against the spongy bit inside of you. “My greedy little sky dancer… I want to watch you dance for me…” he whispers, hot breath fanning against your ear and much to your dismay, Neteyam removes his fingers from within you, a whine that wasn't completely voluntary, following it from your throat.

Your growing pout causes Neteyam to chuckle as he shifts his weight slightly, still resting on his knees, but now sitting on his heels, the back of his hand now placed purposefully atop his thigh, his fingers still glistening with your juices now pointing skyward, “Sit.”. The command was simple enough, but you couldn’t stop the drifting of your eyes to the place between his thighs, where his cock twitched in eagerly. “That is for later, for now…” He curled his fingers in a sort of beckoning motion, “sit.”. You didn't recall how many steps it took until you were straddling Neteyam's thigh and you couldn't find it in you to care at the tips of his fingers brush your folds, his thumb gently swiping over your clit as you lowered yourself onto him, sinking his fingers back home. “Ahh~...” You moan as you sit completely on his thigh, with Neteyam now knuckle deep in your sex. “Mmnh you’re so warm inside, yawne.. so tight. Let us get you ready for more, hm? Dance…” he cooed sweetly, his fingers repeating that beckoning motion inside of you that serves as enough to jumpstart your movements. You grind your hips into his palm, your juices squelching below you with the motion. For a moment you see Neteyam's eyelids flutter, his lips curl back in the slightest of snarls, before settling for a look so heavy with lust it had you swearing under your breath, you nearly thought you'd combust at the sight alone. Sparing a glance between his legs once again, you witnessed the evidence of that look. His cock nearly red at the tip, twitching with each sway of your hips, as if he were imagining it inside of you instead of his fingers. You knew if you were his size, a na'vi, he wouldn't have wasted a second before burying himself in you, but alas, you were a fragile human. A small delicate thing that, despite whatever protests you could throw his way, you know that Neteyam would always take his time with you. “Eyes on me, yawne.” Neteyam says in more of a growl, as if just the sight of you looking at his was shredding his self control, yet before you could so much as lift your gaze- “Haah! Tey-.” he began bouncing his leg, thus you along with it, sending you up and down on his fingers at his will. Your fingernails nearly broke skin as you bounced atop his legs, moaning uncontrollably as he fucked you on his fingers. 

Neteyam's gaze seemed to devour you like a piece of art; watching the each bounce of your breasts, the juices painting his palm and thigh, thrust after thrust how they pooled on his blue skin. It was almost to much, his cock was aching to the point of pain- and then he felt your touch on it's head, not even processing when or how your hand had gone from gripping his shoulder, to rolling his cock head in your palm and… fuck did it feel good. Too good. It was almost too easy to imagine pinning you on the forest floor, lining himself with your cunt and- No, you needed to finish first before he could have you. He needed to be sure you were ready for him. Your body trembled as Neteyam began curling his fingers repeatedly as he continued to bounce his leg, the mixed sensation throwing you into the merciful arms of release as you writhed and shook, mewling out in a hitched voice as you came undone. He continued, slowly the bouncing of his thigh and shifting his curling fingers in the massaging motion, letting you ride out your high. Neteyam huffed a small laugh as your forehead leaned against his chest for support, your breathing heavy and uneven. “You… you play too much, Teyam.”, this prompted another laugh as Neteyam lowered his knee, his free hand snaking from your hip to around your backside, as he carefully lowered you onto the plush grass. Once your back was flush against the ground, Neteyam now leaning over you, he withdrew his fingers, bringing them below pelvis to smear your lingering juices along his shaft, letting out a sigh at the contact, a sound that had your chest tightening. He had been so patient, so gentle, and now you would reward him for his efforts. 

Slowly you spread your legs wide, bringing your knees to your chest, watching as Neteyam continued to give himself a few more pumps to ease the hurt. When his eyes finally lifted to see you spread before him, the sound that came from him was nothing, but primal need. He ran his tongue over his lips to moisten them as he carefully leaned down, bringing your face closer to his own until his forehead rested against yours. Despite the hunger, his amber eyes swam with so much Earth shattering love that you felt you could weep and perhaps it showed in your face, because Neteyam cooed your name so softly and sincerely you almost didn't hear it, before he raised his lips to kiss your hairline, once again mentally cursing the obstruction of your mask that kept him from kissing your lips. When he pulled away, it was only enough to weave a hand between you to guide his cock closer to where you both longed for him to be. At the feel of his tip prodding at your entrance, Neteyam leaned down to place a gentle kiss at your ear, whispering sweet praises as inch by delicious, suffocating, filling inch he pushed into you. The shudder that rippled down his back muscles as your tightness took hold of him, as if it would never let go. “Siltsan, ma’ syulang…” (Well done, my flower). As Neteyam looked up to take in your expression, he found your eyes closed, brows scrunched, but not in pain as you breathed, “I don't think I'll ever get used to that first thrust… thank Eywa.”. 

Neteyam couldn't help, but chuckle before leaning down to bite your earlobe, “Such a dirty mouth on my mate…” he cooed, yet as you were about to retort, Neteyam pulled out slightly before plunging back in, his muscles flexing at the motion. “Ohh…shit…”, the curse natural on his tongue as again he thrusted slowly into you. The fifth time his tip pressed kissed your cervix, Neteyam had to bite back a growl. He was desperate, but he wouldn’t allow himself to throw caution to the wind, not just for your safety, but to savor this feeling for as long as he could. He maneuvered enough to set your legs over his shoulders, his knees spreading wider through the grass as he scooped an arm beneath your shoulders, pressing your front flush against his own seamlessly, like he was trying to get as close to you as possible- to force your bodies to become one and when he rolled his hips again, you rolled yours with him. Neteyam's ears pressed flat against the sides of his head and he let out a soft whimper, he was content to stay like this forever. “Teyam, please…” You begged, rolling your hips before he could move again, giving his cock a loving squeeze with a clench of your inner walls and with it, an invisible tether had broken loose. Neteyam reeled his hips back at the same steady pace he had, but when he drove back in, your body bucked with his. “Fuck! yes… like that… please.” and he did, again and again, faster, harder, until it was all he could do to bring your hips down onto each of his thrusts, driving your back into the grass each time. His lips were in a frenzy on your ears, neck and chest; wherever he could reach, you decorated your skin in wet kisses, nips, and licks and you couldn't find it within you to give a shit about how many marks he was leaving, not when it meant he was putting his claim on you in the most intimate way he could, Your body writhed and bucked beneath him, your legs that had been barking for being in the same position too long, had become an after thought as one ograsm began as another ended. 

Only when Neteyam pulled away, wrapping your legs around his slim waist did you suddenly remember they needed relief, yet the euphoria of it was short lived as you were hauled into his lap, both arms wrapping around you as he somehow drove himself deeper at the new angle. Neteyam buried his face between your neck and shoulder, his grunts and moans lingering in your ear. He was close, the breathless whines that new fell from his lips indicated as much. So close you could feel the restraint in his thrusts, where one moment he pistoned into you, filling the space around you with wet slapping, the next he held your pelvis flush against his own as he ground himself into you. Your brows furrowed through your mask as his whines became more pitched, desperate you realized, like the finish line was nearly there, yet somehow out of reach. So you did what you could, clinging to him and whispering in his ear between moans, “I love you.”, “I love you.”, “My mate.”, “Mine.”, it was the last two words that clanged through him like a burst of energy as Neteyam gave a few rough thrusts, bringing your body to meet them each time, that he finally went over the edge, spilling as much of his seed as he could into you before it began to spill where you were still connected. 

The moment he stilled inside of you, you both let out a sigh in unison, your bodies drenched with sweat, skin hot and sticky to the touch. It was when you each pulled back to look at each other that Neteyam’s eyes widened, taking in your body before him. “What? What's wrong?” You immediately ask, following his gaze, but that was all the proof you needed. From what you could see, your chest was littered with redish-purple spots, which you could only assume were on your neck as well, and then the embarrassment of having to walk into the lab like this hit. Neteyam merely laughed, trying as gentle as possible to lay you back down on the grass, withdrawing himself from you before laying on his side beside you. “You say my stripes are pretty, but I must say… I do find spots to be a good look on you.” then you laughed with him only after feining disapproval at his joke, giving his shoulder a playful shove before snuggling into his warmth.

Even rereading this story I'm super proud with how it turned out. I hope it holds up to everyone who read it previously and that new readers enjoy it as well.♡

Tag list:  @luvv4j4ybe11, @sullybothersmate ,@yourfavwh0r3 @Awiltedpeony @xylianasblog @pandoraslxna @blue-slxt @hotdsworld @itchaboi-itchyboy @erenjaegerwifee

If you would like to be added or removed from a specific taglist, just let me know!

[m1tsu-ki]

🫶🫶🫶🫶

YES TO THE YES

The Selection

Prologue

Paring: Neteyam x Fem!Tawakmi!Reader

Warnings: none, some flirting.

Word Count: 2.7k

Disclaimer: All my characters are aged-up! If that bothers you feel free to scroll and do not interact with my account or any of my post.

~ This is the first part to my new series! I hope you all like the idea and enjoy reading! Suggestion are welcome I'd love to hear your ideas. in this series I should make you aware I will be including some human things, there will be some pretending when it comes to those things. the technology for instance will be something that is heavily in the series. human songs is also something that will be mentioned throughout, which will include some songs and lyrics (but Y/n is gonna write them so it wouldn't be considered human in this series)

Series M.List | Main M.List

“Neteyam the war is over, it is high time you choose a wife” Neytiri, his mother said to him while they were all having dinner. “Yea son, I know that for a long time it is all we thought about but you should get out there, get to know some people” his father, Jake pipped up. 

“Being married is great I promise, I didn’t think I'd like it this much man seriously” his brother Lo’ak said as he hugged his wife Korra against his side making her giggle. Neteyam smiles at his brother and new sister, they had such a strong relationship ever since they were young, the type of friends you knew one day they would mate and be as one. Neteyam has never had anyone like that, he has had friends and girls he was interested in but this war changed people, took people. He just isn’t really attracted to anyone in his clan right now.  

“I hear you; I know a bond is important to form, but honestly this war has taken so much out of all of us, there isn’t much people left in the clan and no one I can say I really feel for.” Neteyam sighed as he told his family as he passes his hand over the scar, he now has on his chest from getting shot all those years ago. His parents look at him sympathetically, they know what it feels like to be in love, they only want their children to feel the same one day, to feel that happiness. 

“Ok, I attended a meeting with the clan leaders from across the forest, they too have suffered much lose from this war and one of them pitched an idea I thought was interesting, I did not agree beforehand because I wasn’t sure you would agree” Jake sighed and glanced at his wife before continuing, “In the Kekunun clan, they have this tradition where men try through a series of competitions and challenges to win over the woman of their choosing, they pitched that if you were open too it, you can hold one of your own here, and which ever woman you choose will be your mate for life and join their clan with ours, so don’t suffer such a lose alone. You will rule both clans side by side.”  

His family looked at him while he contemplated his options, it was not the worse idea, maybe someone from the other clans might catch his attention. Maybe he might fall in love with someone, “How will we choose which girls will enter?” Neteyam asked his father.  

“Well, you can let the clans decide which girl they think is best fit or you can send someone you know to survey the crowds and choose a girl they think you’ll like, the point of this is to find you a match you are happy with, making the clan bigger is just a bonus” his father said. “We only want you to be happy son” his mother spoke up.  

Neteyam sighed again, “Ok, we will do it, but I want someone to survey the clans” his family waited for him to say who they will send and Neteyam didn’t have to give it much thought, at the end of the day only his family stood with him in the hard times, only his family held his hand throughout all of the injuries and loses, “Lo’ak, I trust his judgement, he’ll find me the right girls.”  

Lo’ak smiled at his brother, over the years they had depended on each other a lot, they grew much closer than their teenage years, they are not only brothers but good friends, they have kept each other safe countless times now, there really is no one Neteyam has more trust in to think of his best interest.  

Lo’ak has been to three clans so far with his wife, all three times he had chosen a woman he thinks his brother might like. He has been to the Tanrangi Clan by the eastern sea, the Olangi Clan that reside in the forest plains of Pandora and the Kekunun Clan that live in the Mountains. Visiting them has been a real experience for Lo’ak he was able to spend time with the people and get to know their customs before he chose a woman.  

It was easier than expected the women he chose just stood out to him, and his wife was much help in decided as well because Lo’ak came to realize, all the other forest clans have heirs that are women. Not a man besides their father was in the family, someone them were only children but some had sisters, none so far had brothers.  

Lo’ak must make one more stop, the furthest clan in the forest, a good three days travel away from the omatikaya clan, it was the Tawkami clan. Rumor has it you reside in one of the forest clans but Lo’ak has yet to see you. He just knows you would be perfect for his brother, but he can’t help but feel a bit selfish about wanting to choose you, yes, he has a wife and he loves her more than anything, he would never do anything to hurt her. But ever since Lo’ak heard the sound of your voice in his teens he’s been crushing hard, almost like a fantasy he knows he has no shot, he knows he doesn’t want it, he just likes you. He had this idea in his head about what you might be like and he always wondered what it would be like to meet you. 

Now Lo’ak is no stalker, he knows what you look like simply from pictures, but what na’vi on Pandora doesn’t know you? You are famous on Pandora, your voice people say was a gift from the great mother herself, they say your body was hand shaped by Eywa from how incredibly beautiful you are. They way your waves fall so lovely down your back, the silky curls bounce with every movement you make.  

Lo’ak has only seen videos and heard recordings but he has never gotten the chance to meet you. Why were you so out of reach to the public, he wasn’t even sure what clan you are from. He definitely thinks you are perfect though, but maybe his opinion on your is biased. Korra understands Lo’ak’s feelings towards you, she’d be lying if she said she didn’t also admire you, the way you moved when you danced in the videos she saw, it was so graceful and full of meaning.  

They talked about it the entire trip, every clan they would look for you and every clan they would be disappointed they didn’t find you; this is their last chance. They fly over the entrance of the Tawkami clan attracting the people below. This clan was beautiful, big space, Lo’ak knows they fought besides them in battle but they didn’t not return in the numbers they gave out. They are highly skilled and in tune with their land. 

Lo’ak jumped off his ikran and walked over to Korra to help her off her ikran. The pair walked hand in hand up to the crowd and greeted all of them. Everyone knows they are omatikaya, they know Lo’ak and who his father way, they also are very much aware of his skills as a warrior and is well respected at the clan.  

The clan’s Olo’eyktan with his three sons came forward, Lo’ak and Korra respectfully greeted them and they returned the gesture. “Lo’ak, son of Toruk Makto, what brings you so far from your clan?” Olo’eyktan spoke up. Tsahìk has joined them shortly after greeting them respectfully. “This is my wife, Korra. We are here to inform the clan that the Omatikaya have decided to hold a competition for the hand of Toruk Makto’s eldest, my brother Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk’itan, the winner will join clans with ours and we will live as one. I was sent to choose the woman and request her presence to the clan to start the games in one weeks time”  

“Walk with me son” the Olo’eyktan invited Lo’ak, Korra walked alongside them as they spoke, “You are meant to choose clan leading children, right?” the man asked. Lo’ak nodded his head waiting for the man to continue speaking, “I am afraid I only have the one daughter; she is off age and if she is willing to participate in this competition you will have my blessing,”  

The Tsahik of the clan speed up her pace to stand in front of the three, “She has a beautiful connection to Eywa son, she must be taken care off if we allow her to come to your clan. How long will she be staying?” Korra spoke up before Lo’ak did, “the selection will take six months, between those six months some of the women who Neteyam is not interested in will be sent home.”  

Tsahik made eye contact with her husband speaking without words, almost as if Lo’ak read their mind, “Her place at the clan is welcome, she will be treated as one of our own, but we cannot guarantee she will be the one my brother chooses. If she is not, we will ensure her safe passage back. My brother is not only looking for a capable woman, he is looking for a loving wife, I am only here to see which one might be best suited, in the end it will be up to him.” Lo’ak’s eyes dart between them both before letting out a nervous sigh.  

It was never easy to explain to the clan leaders their children may not be Neteyam’s wife but they accepted anyways, many have respect for his brother, many women want to mate him, but not everyone has the same advantage in the games. “Let us introduce you and you can ask her yourself.” 

You sat on in a small clearing humming tunes of songs and sewing on some beads you gathered earlier in the day. You felt at peace in the forest, it was always something you loved to enjoy by yourself, the wind blew softly through your curls that fell over your eyes slights and down to the middle of your back. It was sort of uncommon for Na’vi women to have nags but you always thought they suited your face well, especially with your full curls, “Y/n!” you heard your mother shout. 

You heard turned to the voice before you stood up and ran in the direction of your mother. “Sa’nok? What is it?” you pull a big leaf down to walk in front of it being met with bother your parents, and a man and woman you did not recognize.  

The spark in their eyes when they saw you was something you would never get tired of, they are your fans, your mother brought fans to meet you? Thats a first. You brought your hand up to your forehead to greet them respectfully smiling sweetly, “I see you, y/n” they both said in sync copying your motion making you smile.  

You parents excused themselves mumbling to each other about how they hoped you said yes. You look at them confused before turning to the couple, “May I know your names?” you said sweetly. “I am Lo’ak, son of Toruk Makto, this is my mate, Korra” you smile at them both before silence took over as if they did not know what else to say. “It is nice to meet you both, may I ask why you journeyed so far from your clan?” your eyes dart between them.  

“We have come to choose women from the forest clans for my brother to mate, it is a competition to see who is best suited for him, in return the winning woman will join her clan with the Omatikayan and we will live as one. I know this is short notice but the games start in one week, we have chosen you if you will accept?” Lo’ak said, his grip on his wife’s hand was a bit hard but he was just so nervous on whether you would say yes. You are famous across the moon, everyone and their mother knows about your blessed voice, he just knew he would be doing right by his brother if you accepted. 

“Wow, this is quite a decision, how long will I be staying at your clan?” you bit your lip swinging from side to side as you contemplate, no one has ever asked you to compete for someone else’s hand, people compete for yours. “Six months, if it doesn’t work out between you two and he decides to go in a different direction, though I can’t imagine why, we will grant you safe passage home.” you giggle at him sly comment.  

And you nod your head, “the Omatikaya are 3 days travel away from here as you know, I will not be able to visit my family, it is a big decision to make. I do not want to shut you down but I have no idea what your brother looks like” you tilt your head to the side slightly. Lo’ak sighs assuming you are about to shut him down. “Tell you what, how about you stay for dinner and leave first thing in the morning, I shall give you my answer then” you smile at them.  

You try to ignore the way they both look at each other in a celebratory way and you lead them back to the clan while they ask you questions about how you write your songs and your music, if it is true, you are also a good dancer. Their excitement to talk to you makes you smile, you had secretly always loved the attention that came with being famous, the way people always treated you nicely and how they travel the moon looking for you just to hear you sing.  

After dinner you get tucked away thinking about the situation, your parents have been hounding you about getting a mate for the longest, it is a bit difficult though. You always loved the gifts Eywa blessed you will but men do not want you for a wife, they want you for a lay. You are one of the most beautiful women on the moon according to some, you are something people want to say they have had, like an object. Mates should not treat you like that so you never committed to being anyone’s wife. Maybe Lo’ak’s brother will be different, maybe he will love you for you and not what you have. You knew you had your iPad and you can call your mother whenever you needed but you’ve never really been away from your family before. What if this doesn’t work out, what if you fall in love with him and he doesn’t love you back. No relationship is formed without risk, right? 

The next morning breakfast was served to your guests they made themselves ready to take off to their home clan. They must be relieved to be going home now, they definitely didn’t forget you told them you would have an answer now.  

“So, what’s it gonna be princess? Have you decided whether or not my brother is worth your time?” Lo’ak asked. 

“Well, I’m not sure about that I don’t know him how can I know if he is worth my time?” you giggle at him. “But what is reward without risk? I will be there.” Lo’ak and Korra both smiled at your answer and gave you a hug goodbye. Bidding them safe travels, you watched them fly away.  

“Are you sure about this sis?” your brother Kian asked you, he was your first younger brother, second born in your family. “I am, what is the worst that can happen? I come back here?” you snort making him laugh. “No, I know, I just do not want you to get hurt by this.” you smile at him then glance down to your feet, “We cannot control the things that happen baby brother, we can only control how we react to them.” 

You yanked on his tail and ran away leaving him to chase you in circles around your parents, you will miss them dearly.  

~ I hope you all like it so far! I’m not sure how much chapters I’m writing but as I update I’ll put them here so look it or comment to be tagged!

~ Reblogs, Comments and Likes are always appreciated

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@rivatar @delusionalwh6re @strongheartneteyam @xylianasblog @nilahsstuff @inlovewithpandora @neteyamsoare @m1tsu-ki @xrollingmyeyesx @goofygremlin123 @quicktosimp @r11k4 @its-jennarose @anonymuslydumb @winterhi09 @teymars @kylimarz @jakesullyfatjuicypeen

[m1tsu-ki]

ACKKKK I CANNOT WAIT FOR THIS LOVE!!!!!!(⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡

The Selection

Paring: Neteyam x Fem!Tawkami!Reader

Summary: The Omatikaya clan holds a competition for Neteyam to choose a mate

Warnings: MDNI 18+, explicit language, eventual smut, mentions of killing, blood. I will have warnings before every chapter so no worries if I miss anything here.

Word Count: tbd

Status: ongoing

Disclaimer: All my characters are aged-up! If that bothers you please do not interact with my account or any of my posts!

• Prologue

• Chapter 1

• Chapter 2

• Chapter 3

• Chapter 4

• Chapter 5

 ~ There may very well be more chapters in that series. As you all know I tend to write very long fics and so these chapters will be a few thousand words long each. I appreciate all the support I had before releasing this series and if anyone wants to be added to my Taglist feel free to let me know in the comments!

~ As always, Reblogs, comments and likes are always appreciated! I will accept any suggestions as well if anyone has ideas to make this fic better if love to hear about it!

Taglist 

@rivatar @delusionalwh6re @strongheartneteyam @xylianasblog @nilahsstuff @inlovewithpandora @neteyamsoare @m1tsu-ki @xrollingmyeyesx @goofygremlin123 @quicktosimp @r11k4 @its-jennarose @anonymuslydumb @winterhi09 @teymars @kylimarz

[m1tsu-ki]

YES YES YES YES 😩

Make You Mine II

Paring: Neteyam x Fem!Omatikaya!Reader

Warnings: MDNI 18+, smut, explicit language, tit sucking, orals (f receiving), p in v, marking, dirty talk, rough sex, belly bulge, making out, love at first sight, more embarrassing awkward moments at the end. 

Word Count: 4.8k

Disclaimer: All my characters are aged-up! If that makes you uncomfortable feel free to scroll and do not interact with my posts. 

Index: karyu - teacher, hupx- miss, kelku - house/home

This is part 2 of this fic! If you like my work feel free to check out my other work here!

You feel so giddy, you walk to work the next morning with a smile. Sleep did not come easily last night your mind was racing, but when you did fall asleep his face, his lips plagued your dreams. Your brother thought you were crazy this morning when he saw you skipping around the kelku. 

“Good morning class, how’s about we do some reading this morning then we can go play outside for a bit” you were so excited for your day to be over that you kept looking up at the sky for the general time. The children ran in circles and played, skipping around and screaming but you couldn’t find any of it annoying. You know yourself; you know if Neteyam asks you to be his mate you would say yes. You met him yesterday, but you would still say yes. 

You could hardly keep your excitement in but your daydreaming stopped when you heard the wailing of one of your kids, Tuktirey. “Hey hey, what happened here?” you rushed to her side and saw her clutching her knee. “She tripped on the rock and fell down; it was an accident” one of her classmates that saw what happened spoke up. Tuk was sniffling next to you and you had to pry her hand away so you could see her cut. It was just a little graze but you knew how much it must have hurt her, your pain tolerance is properly equivalent to hers.  

“Alright it’s alright, I’ll take care of her” After you said that the other kids started running around and playing again besides a couple of Tuk’s friends who stayed by her side trying to cheer her up. “I’m fine go play, hupx y/n is here with me” you smile at her as her friends ran away.  

“Come on let’s sit in the shade.” you picked her up and walked over to some rocks that sat under a tree with Tuk on your lap. You cleaned up her cut but not without the occasionally protesting in pain. But eventually she calmed down and rested her head on your shoulder. You didn’t realize at first because you were paying attention to the other children in the class that Tuk had fallen asleep on your shoulder.  

When it was time for you to take the kids inside you made them line up and walk orderly back into the small area where class was held. Tuktirey was still asleep, so instead of waking her you held her in your arms as you walked back to class with the other children. You didn’t bother waking her as the day was almost over and the crying must have made her very tired.  

Taking care of her made you completely forget you scheduled a date for the evening with Neteyam and when all the kids sprinted out towards their parents’ he walked in. Your back was turned facing away from him and Tuk’s limbs were wrapped around your body and her head rested on your shoulder as you tried to neaten up the classroom before leaving. He admired you both for a minute, he thought you looked so beautiful, so domestic with a kid in your arms, he could feel his stomach bubbling from how much he wanted that to be his kid.  

“Hey” he said softly but still startled you, you jump and whipped your body around to look at him. “Oh, you scared me, you were so silent, hi” you smile at him. “I am a hunter; it would defeat the purpose if I was noisy” he chuckled making you giggle too.  

“What happened here?” he gestured to Tuk in your arms. “We were all playing outside and she tripped and cried when it was almost time for us to come in, she just grazed her knee but she was sitting with me after and just fell asleep and speaking from someone who cries and then falls asleep I didn’t want to wake her.”  

He chuckled, “She’s not heavy, Lo’ak complains all the time when he has to pick her up” he moves to take her out of your arms and you let him, he gets so close you get a whiff of his scent and you almost cum. He smells so good; how does he smell so good after a long day of work?  

“No, I’ll feel that pain later, maybe tomorrow too in my arms.” you giggle as tuk shifts and wakes up. She was not being held on Neteyam’s hip and she raises her head to see you. She did what you thought was the cutest thing ever, she stretched her hand out and when you took it she laid down on her brother's shoulder and went to sleep. Neteyam saw the way your eyes teared up at her cute gesture and puffed his cheeks so he wouldn’t laugh.  

“So, what did you have in mind for us to do today?” you turned and asked him. You both started walking out of the classroom. “I have to take Tuk home, then I thought we could take a walk through the forest and have dinner together at my family kelku.” you smiled and agreed, “that sounds wonderful what will your mom be making?”  

Neteyam cleared his throat before answering in a sort of shy tone, “My family is going to the communal dinner, I thought it could just be me and you, I was gonna cook, but if you prefer they stay-” 

“No! I mean, no, that sounds lovely” you smile at him as we made it in front of his family kelku. You both walked inside and greeted everyone pleasantly. You felt a bit awkward seeing his father and brother after the last time but you decided to just ignore it. You made small talk with everyone while neteyam handed Tuk over to her mom to put her to bed and he took your hand and walked out of the kelku.  

“So, where are you taking me?” Neteyam never let go of your hand and you didn’t pull away either, it was so much bigger than yours, his hand was rough like a man’s but it was somehow soft at the same time. “Well, I was planning on taking you to a make-out spot I found so we can finish what we started last night” that statement kind of set you off, how much other girls does he take there.  

You pull your hand away from him and stop walking, you cross your arms over your chest unintentionally pushing your breast together. “I’m not going to your make out spot, how much people do you even take there?”  

Neteyam was confused as to why you pulled away at first but when he heard you speak, he chuckled a bit which confused you, but before you could say anything he said, “Oh no, Lo’ak told me about the spot, yea he’s a whore, but I've never taken anyone there before. I was hoping you’d be my first.” 

His response made you feel bad about jumping to conclusions and you run your hand over your face to hide your smile, “that’s not nice.” Neteyam mirrored your smile and chuckled, “It’s true.”  

After a couple minutes of walking, Neteyam pulled back some vines that hid a beautiful clearing, a small pond sat on the side with a few lily pads floating in them. Neteyam lets you walk in admiring the clearing and he looks around outside to make sure no one is around when he follows you in. 

“This is beautiful Neteyam” she said in awe. He didn’t take much time to admire the area the way you did, he instead admired you, “You look beautiful kalin txe’lan” (sweet heart). You turn towards him and he walked up to you wrapping his arms around your waist, “don’t waste time, do you?” you whisper as his face got closer to yours. “I don’t wanna waste a second with you” he mumbled before he pulled you in for a kiss.  

Just like before his lips were soft, warm, he tasted sweet like fruits he must have eaten earlier. Your hands came up to the back of his neck and he deepen the kiss, like yesterday his body bent over yours as if he wanted you closer but he already had you pressed up against him. His hands slid down your hips to your ass and gave it a squeeze making you moan into the kiss before he lifted you off your feet without breaking the kiss.  

You let out a yelp of surprise and held on to his shoulders as he stood like you weighed nothing in his strong arms. He walked slowly until your back was pressed up against the rough bark of a tree and he continued his assault in your mouth. You pulled away for air pulling your head back and resting it against the tree behind you. Neteyam didn’t waste a second kissing down the column of your neck.  

He kissed your neck from your collarbone up to the bottom of your ear. His teeth grazed that perfect stop on the junction between your shoulder and neck making you moan, “oh Eywa” your eyes rolled and your legs wrapped around his back and locked at your ankles. He chuckled a bit feeling the way you squeeze his waist with your thighs. His lips came back up to your mouth and you intertwined your tongues in your mouth.  

You were starting to feel hot, his hands roamed your body, your hands scratched at his shoulder and he was kissing so intensely, so good, you didn’t want him to stop. If he laid you on the grass and fucked you know you would let him, you were so close to begging for it. Neteyam heard static coming from his ear piece, someone was trying to talk to him, after a few second, he recognized Lo’ak’s voice in his ear. As irritated his brother’s voice sounded in his ear instead of yours, he didn’t pull away from your hot tongue. 

“Bro, mom and dad just left to go to dinner, place in yours.” Neteyam’s ear perked up, he was going to take you home. One of his hands held you up easily while the other came to his throat to press the talk button, “yea, thanks bro-” he said between the kiss hearing a muffled ‘ew’ come from the ear piece from his brother.  

“What?” you pull away and ask, “that was my brother” he pointed to the ear piece, “Let me take you home, have some dinner” you looked at him from your position pressed up against you, his strong arms bulging under your weight but he lifted you so easily, his lips swollen from kissing you. You didn’t want him to stop. Neteyam dropped you to the floor and you stumbled a bit but his arms were still around you and you were still against the tree.  

He was going to step back and allow you to walk with him but you pulled his head down for another smearing kiss, “I am dinner” you mumbled the words into his mouth making him groan and push up against you, “nah baby, your dessert” you smiled into the kiss before pulling away and wrapping his arms around you.  

The walk back to his hut was silent aside from the occasional kisses he left on your neck and shoulders, sometimes your head. He pulled the flap to his family kelku open and you walked in, it was silent now so you got a chance to admire the space. The sully’s put a lot of effort into making their place a home, you say touches of each person when you looked around along with the family photos that hung on the walls.  

Neteyam told you to get comfortable sitting in the common area of the home and you watched him light up the fire and cook up some stored meat, before cutting up some vegetables and fruits for you to eat, it was a generous amount you didn’t want to waste it. “I’m not gonna eat that much neteyam” you looked at the serves he dished out, “Don’t worry about it, whatever you don’t eat I will” you were still worried some of it might go to waste but decided to drop it. “So, where did you learn to cook?” you asked him as you leaned back against the wall watching in focus on the food over the fire. “My mother taught us, everyone besides my father and Tuk knows how to cook. Mother tried teaching him but he’s pretty much a lost cause, he can’t cook to save his life” you laughed at his comment and engaged in small talk until he handed you a leaf with steamy food on it. You admired how well cooked and good the food looks, “It almost looks to pretty to eat”  

He chuckled and sat with his own serving which was the rest of the food, “You’re gonna eat all that?” you looked at the food you could never finish in his leaf. “I’m a big man sweetheart, I eat way more than you think” he laughed making you laugh with him. You both talked until you were done eating and cleaned up the space, “That was delicious Neteyam. Everything tonight was wonderful.” you smiled at him and he took both your hands in his pulling you close.  

His thumbs rubbed back and forth on the top of your hands and he smiled down at you, “I had a really nice time tonight with you, I know we didn’t do much but-” you raised on of your hands to his mouth shushing him with your finger. He instinctively kissed it but you didn’t move it. “I had an amazing time, it doesn’t matter what we did, you provided, you made sure I was safe and had fun- lots of fun” you giggled making him join in. 

Neteyam pulled you closer wrapping his free arm around your waist and he held your hand with the other, he kissed you softly on the cheek, then again on the corner of your lips then fully. You moan sweetly into the soft kiss. You pulled away but he chased after you with him lips slotting them back together. The kiss got heated and he walked you back until you were in his private room. You were so in your head thinking about how good it felt to kiss him that you didn’t realize he moved you until his scent hit you in the nose.  

You pulled away darting your eyes around his room and his lips went back down to your neck, you didn’t take in much detail when he bit you in that same amazing spot again and you fell weak in his arms. He moved you to his bed and sat you down on the soft sheets breaking the kiss. You looked around at the bed then up at him and he held your face with both his big palms. “Why don’t you stay here tonight, wouldn’t want you to go home so late”  

“Neteyam the sun is just setting, we just had dinner, what about my brother.” 

“Lo’ak invited him to a party they are gonna crash here when they come back you don’t have anything to do tonight, just stay with me” you bit your lip looking up at him contemplating whether you should stay. Your mind was quickly made up when his thumb pulled your lip from between your teeth and looked down at you so lustfully. You nod your head meekly and pushed yourself further into his bed and he crawled right over you.  

Neteyam slotted his hand under your back to the knot holding your top together and brought his head down to kiss you, he didn’t untie your top it’s like his fingers were teasing you, you’ve had enough of that, you want him to lay his cock on you. “Take it off” you whisper into his lips; he didn’t need more when he pulled the string on your top loosening in. Neteyam broke the kiss to watch himself pull your top of your chest and admired the way they bounced when he released them. His staring made you a bit self-conscience until he bit his lip and blushed at the sight.  

His hand came up to squeeze the flesh of your tits watching it spill through his fingers. “You’re so fucking sexy, couldn’t help but think about this when I first met you. You were just so gorgeous” your face flushed at his words and his finger gave you a nice squeeze before threading lightly to your nipples. Neteyam circles light touched on the buds watching the way they harden with a smirk.  

His head dips and licked a stride up your right boob to your nipple and sucked on it. Neteyam tugged on the nub feeling the way you squirmed under his touch, you were so sensitive. He switched to your other nipple mimicking his actions until your nipples were swollen and wet. Your thighs were wet with your essence you wanted him down there now. His lips moved back up to your neck kissing and sucking on your skin making purple marks. Your hands moved down his body to his loincloth and shoved your hand in grabbing his cock. 

Neteyam stuttered at the feeling of your small warm hand engulfing him, you give it small strokes in the restricted area and feeling the way Neteyam’s breath picks up. He kisses down your body until he’s in line with your covered core, he admires the wet spot before licking a stride up on the stop making you jolt. Neteyam unties your loincloth tossing it to the side off the bed and spreading your legs wide for him to see. He sends you a wicked grin that making you face flush and turn deep purple, “so wet baby, all for me?”  

You bit your lip when his voice makes you clench around nothing and you nod your head. Neteyam smirks and kisses your clit lightly loving the way you slightly jump at his every touch. His tongue darts out tasting the slick between your folds and he groans at the sweetness. Neteyam buries his head down between your slick thighs making you moan, his tongue darts through your folds and into your clenching hole, his noises make you shiver when he sends vibrations up your cunt.  

No one has ever gone down on you and it felt so good, at a point you thought it just wasn’t something you enjoyed, but Neteyam is clearly proving you wrong. His tongue glides up to your clit circling and flicking your sensitive bud making you whimper. “Eywa, you taste so fucking good” he groans and looks up at you. You both make eyes contact and you can’t find it in yourself to break it, or to hold in your whimpers. You are so close you feel yourself getting closer and closer every flick of his tongue and you thread your hands through his hair and pull him up away from your cunt.  

You breath heavily as you say, “I’m gonna cum” 

He smiles at you words, “Let me make you cum” he replies almost immediately as he tries to go back down on you but your hands move to his shoulders, “no Neteyam, wanna cum on your cock”  

Your eyes are glassy and your face sports a deep blush, your swollen lips and caught between your teeth once more and your chest rises and falls rapidly. Neteyam adores how you look in his bed, all fucked out and pretty, and you haven’t even seen his cock yet. He sits up on his knees in between your thighs and unties the knot for his loincloth, he pulls it off tossing it to join yours and bends over your body, your eyes take in his toned figure and his hard cock.  

Neteyam is huge, you’ve never been with someone that big but you want it so bad. His lips met your ear as he strokes his cock, you can see from under his body the way his tip leaks pre-cum and it drops on your cunt. His tip prudes at your entrance and you spread your legs wider to accommodate him. When his cock head enters you squeeze your eyes shut from the stretch and Neteyam moves slowly back and forth until his entire length is buried in you. You both moan when his tip hits your cervix and your belly bulges.  

“F-fuck Neteyam it’s so big” you whimper, you rock your head back so your cheeks are touching and your hands move up his chest to his muscular biceps, you only feel hard muscle on his body as he tenses up from your tight cunt sucking him in.  

Both you and Neteyam look down when he pulls out until it’s just the tip and thrust back into you, “Yea? Gonna take this big cock baby?” his words feel like it goes through one ear and out the other when he starts to speed up his thrust but it doesn’t matter when your already chanting ‘yes yes yes’ in his ear.  your fingers scratch at the skin you can reach and you mewl in his ear.  

You feel yourself getting so close to cuming you want it so much more since the last time you edged yourself. Neteyam sets a pace that makes your head spin, his cock is angled to hit your g-spot every time he thrust. Your jaw is slack and you bite his shoulder to help muffle your moans but your thoughts are spinning around his cock you can’t even think about how much strength you need to bite. Neteyam kisses along your neck whispering sweet praises in your ear about how good you feel, and how you’re such a good girl for taking him so good. 

“Fuck Neteyam! I’m gonna cum!” you shout he speeds up his thrust. You can barely see when your vision turns white and you gush on his cock. Neteyam slows down his thrust and pulls out of your gaping hole. His cock drips your essence off the tip and he smiles down at you, “Fuck, you okay baby?” you nod your head up at him with your eyes shut but you realize he never came and your eyes shoot back open.  

Neteyam looks down at your spent body observing your every little feature committing it to his permanent memory, “You didn’t cum nete...” you say softly making him smile down at you, “It’s okay tonight was about you”  

You look down at his raging cock and suddenly have all the energy to take more, “No I want your cum” you mumble at your sit up and turn around. Neteyam didn’t quite hear you so he didn’t stop you from getting up, “What? Baby what are you doing?” 

You get on your hands and knees; your ass sits up in line with his chest and your tail sways in the air, “I said I want your cum” you repeated louder as you look back at him with a sweet blush on your face. You heard him growl behind you and shuffle to line his cock up with your hole. “You’re just perfect hm” he said and stuffed his cock back into you.  

Neteyam thrust slowly as he gathered up your hair into a makeshift ponytail with your kuru handing down his forearm as well and he yanks your head back thrusting into you at a brutal pace. “You’re such a good girl sweetheart, taking my cock so fucking good, look at you” his hand slaps down on your ass hard creating a nice hand print covering your ass, making you scream out his name. You can’t form any words besides his name.  

You feel yourself cuming again, you're so close to another sweet release, but this time you can’t warn him about it because every thrust makes you breathless. Neteyam feels the way you gush once more on him and he gets an ego boost, he’s so happy he is the one fucking you and making you cum on his cock and no one else, “Yea sweetheart, cum on my cock just like that, so fucking good for me yea?”  

“Yesyesyes tey pleasee, w-want your cum!” your words are jumbled but you scream them out, all your body wants is to feel him pump his cum into you. He doesn’t take long after to cum hard inside you, you feel his cock twitch as he pumps himself empty in your cunt. “F-fuckkkk yea take my cum baby” his breathing is heavy and his body drops to the side pulling you down with him, he doesn’t pull out or anything just covers you both with the blanket and wraps his arms around you as sleep finds you. 

“Tukteiry wake your brother” Neytiri says as everyone sits in the common area and Neteyam still isn’t awake. “Okay mama” she jumps up and runs into her brother room. You and Neteyam are still sound asleep, but he is not laying on his back with his hand under your body and you lay with your face in his pillow and hands up by your head on your stomach stuck up every close to him, the blanket has been pushed to both your waist showing your hair cascading down your naked back and his ripped abs.  

When Tuk runs in, she’s confused at first, she has never seen a girl in Neteyam’s room before let alone his bed. When she does realize who it is due to your bracelet that you made in class the day before she knows it was you. Tuk lets out a loud blood curdling scream making you and Neteyam jump up and she runs out of the room. 

You both look around for the alarming noise and you hear Tuk shout, “Daddy! Neteyam kidnapped hupx y/n!” you and Neteyam scramble when it finally hits you, the situation you’re in. The sun has risen and the high in the sky and beaming through the room, you were surprised it didn't wake you. “What?” you hear footsteps coming closer to the room you presume it’s his father so your flip your body around and bring the blanket up to your chest to cover your body. Your hair is a mess and Neteyam scrambles to find both of your clothes but he throws them off the bed last night so you pull him back and cover his body just in time for jake to walk in.  

Lo’ak follows closely behind him and suddenly you are in another awkward situation with them, including Tuk as she darts in the room right after. Lo’ak tries so hard to hold in his laugh you can see him turning purple and Jake stands like he doesn’t know what to say. Your eyes dart to Neteyam and back to the three people standing in front of you. “I thought you were gonna wake me up” you whisper, “I thought so too apparently Tuk beat me to it” he said in the same tone,  

“See daddy he kidnapper my new karyu. You can’t keep her! Hupx Y/n is my karyu!” you ran up to you on the side of the bed and started pulling you. You didn’t think she was strong enough but you almost drop the blanket, but didn’t thanks to Neteyam. 

“I did not kidnap her; she’s is here because she wants to be here” his tone was snappy with Tuk like he’s fighting for a toy. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you out of her grip. Jake still stands quietly at the entrance of the room and Lo’ak is quickly losing his battles about laughing at you both. “Okay Tuk enough come on; they’ll be out in a minute.” Jake grabs Tuk and pulls her outside. 

 “But daddy he kidnapper her-” 

“No, he didn’t kidnap her, they were playing- to late last night and... she had a sleepover here...” Jake says making Lo’ak laugh as he followed them out.  

You turn your head to neteyam and fall back onto the bed groaning in embarrassment, “I’m never gonna show my face in public again” you cringe at the interaction that just took place making Neteyam laugh. You both wash up in his room and step outside and everyone, including your brother turns their head to look at you while you awkwardly greet them. Neteyam gently nudges you to sit down on a stop next to you brother and Neteyam on the other side and your brother spoke up, “So, how was your night?” you slowly turn your head to him and slap him in the face with cushion you were leaning back on.  

It was an eventful morning but you wouldn’t do anything to change the night.  

🪸 I hope you al enjoyed reading the second part! I appreciate all the love I’ve been getting for them!

🪸Reblogs, comments and likes are always appreciated!

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[m1tsu-ki]

Would you love me if I was a worm? (gn)

Currently on Shift: Carmen, Richie, Sydney, Marcus, Fak, Sweeps, Tina, Luca

Carmen

“...What?”

Would check your temperature

Make you drink a whole glass of water and sit you on the sofa

When he’s confirmed that you are not ill or dehydrated he’d be concerned

Wonders all night if he isn’t showing you enough love

Brings you flowers the next day and gummy worms too 

Richie

“Fuck No!”

Asks if you would love him as a worm

When you say yes he calls you gross

Why’s he smiling though

Sydney

“I can’t kiss a worm though?”

She probably ate a worm as a kid on a dare once

Now cannot stand them

Hates the texture, but would try to get over it for you

Marcus

“Of course I’d love you, I’d take good care of you,”

Would make you a little home, 

Keep you in the nicest tank

Decorate it seasonally

Would take you on walks sitting on his shoulder

Would knit you a blanket :’)

Fak

“Fuck yes, can I be a worm too?”

He’s whipped,

As long as you two can be together? He’s down

Besides, the life of a worm, coiling himself around your matching worm body? 

Sounds pretty good to him

Sweeps

“What’s the scenario here?”

Asks you so many questions

Why you were turned into a worm?

When did you meet?

Is it a Princess and the Frog scenario?

Can he turn you back?

Comes up with a whole story of how he would save you from your worm curse

Tina

“What is wrong with you?

Will not even entertain the thought

Even if you ask again she’s not answering

Starts mumbling under her breath in Spanish

Not caring if you can understand her or not

Continues her prep to ignore you

Luca

“You’d be a cute worm”

Would kiss your forehead (kinda condescendingly)

You notice he’s avoiding the question

You open your mouth to ask him again

He puts a pastry in your mouth 

His distraction is a success this time

[m1tsu-ki]

Bonds Beyond Words: If Eywa Wills It

PART ONE PART TWO

Pairing: Aged-Up!Neteyam x Fem!Human!Reader

Word Count: 2.9k

Tags: dark themes, mention of suicide attempt, eventual NSFW, aged-up! Neteyam, reader has PTSD, Neteyam dislikes humans (except for you), eventual jealous/possessive Neteyam, future Olo'eyktan! Neteyam, Jake Sully appearance, random Human!OC's, interspecies slow burn, angst, fluff, probably OOC, POV’s all over the place, forgive the inconsistencies. 

Summary: You settle into your new home at High Camp. You have a conversation with the Olo'eyktan, Jake Sully.

A/N and Disclaimer: If anyone would like to be notified/tagged in future updates, please comment on this post! Forgive any present tense inconsistencies.

This story contains explicit content and is only appropriate for audiences 18+. MDNI. Please do not repost my work. 

Your adrenaline plummets. You rest for hours without interruption. 

The room Max has put you up in is nice, but you know it’s too spacious to be permanent. You lie comfortably on a lumpy couch. Sometimes the dim lights flicker, there’s a constant mechanical hum, and the blankets are scratchy, but you nap peacefully for the first time since cryosleep. It’s homely. You need this moment of respite. 

Hours later, you wake to the smell of something fragrant cooking. You’re so hungry that you feel nauseous. 

As badly as you want to leap from the couch and venture into the kitchen, you lie still. You continue to cherish this time to yourself—you’re unsure when you’ll get such an opportunity again. 

You let the events of the past week wash over you like a tidal wave. Tears come and go, just like mental flashes of the faces of the many women and allied wardens long gone. As demoralizing and dehumanizing the experience was, you became a tight-knit family because of it. Your pain is like nothing you’ve ever experienced before—as much as you miss them, you know they’re better off dead than being torn apart and transformed into the RDA’s breeding machines. It leaves a tart feeling in your mouth: it’s upsettingly bittersweet. 

Wading through the water of your thoughts and emotions is treacherous. If you swim too long, you know you’ll drown. 

You push away the blankets, then fold them neatly. You swipe beneath your tear ducts. After standing by the door for ten minutes, you gain the courage to place your palm over the entryway censor. You make it two steps out before you’re stopped. 

You’re startled by a woman’s whistle—it’s reminiscent of a catcall. She leans against a doorframe with a toothpick between her canines. She’s human. She’s stocky and muscular. The woman wears a navy-blue jumpsuit and combat boots. You can tell her hair was once jet black, but it’s starting to grow in gray. “Welcome, new girl,” she says.

“Hi,” you reply sheepishly. You introduce yourself—first name only. 

She does the same: “I’m Mia.” 

You shake hands—you note that her palms are very calloused. Mia must be involved with hands-on labor. 

“Listen, I don’t like to beat around the bush,” says Mia. She leans in closer, like she has a secret to tell you. “You need to shower,” she confesses, this time much quieter. There isn’t a lick of malice in her tone. “Like, immediately.” 

You appreciate her honesty, but your cheeks flush. Mia pulls a chuckle from your chest. “I know,” you reply feebly. 

And so, Mia takes this moment as an opportunity to give you a proper tour of the human’s facility at High Camp. You’re going to be living there, after all. 

Admittedly, there isn’t much to see. Together, you stroll through the science shacks and a few vacant laboratories. You meet a few more scientists. You return to the two flex rooms, like the one you napped in; Mia shows you the barracks and bunk beds, the link units, and the kitchenette. Norm is cooking what he describes to be his very own fusion recipe: a soup that combines both human and Pandoran ingredients. In passing, you apologize to Norm for spitting on him, again—you’ve already apologized four times, but once more couldn’t hurt. He makes it abundantly clear that everything is well between you both. 

“I would do the same if they captured me,” Norm confesses. “Much worse, in fact.” 

Your tour ends at the showers. Mia leaves briefly, then returns with a towel, a new bar of soap, a plastic hairbrush, a few garments of clothing, and a toothbrush and paste. “This is all we have right now,” Mia explains. 

It’s more than enough, you think. 

Tears well in your eyes at the sight of these items; although necessary for most humans, to you, these things feel like a luxury. 

“There’s hot and cold water knobs. The hot water alone won’t last long. Try to maneuver the knobs to use hot and cold at the same time,” she says with a short demonstration. Warm water spits out of the shower head onto the tiled wall in front of it. You hold out your palm—it’s bliss. 

You’re solaced. You thank Mia one last time. She takes her cue to leave and gives you some privacy. 

---

Despite the lukewarm water diminishing to icy-cold after only a few minutes, you spend a long time in the shower. You wash your hair. You scrub everything, at least twice. Your pruned fingertips feel foreign angst the metal knob—you haven’t been allowed a long enough shower since your past life on Earth. 

The clothes Mia left for you don’t fit quite right. The pants drag on the floor and aren’t secure around the waist; you take a step, and your trousers pool at your knees. You have no choice but to create a makeshift belt with spare twine and an aptly-sized piece of elastic from Mia’s sewing kit. As you weave the components together, you realize her sewing kit doubles as her first-aid box. She must use the same thread to stitch seams on fabric and cuts on skin. You take this opportunity to gently reapply scar ointment and new dressing to the stitched slash beneath your collarbone. 

The tanktop she gave you, on the other hand, was made for someone with slightly smaller anatomy. In comparison to the pants, it fits skin-tight snug. Luckily, the undergarments are trouble-free. 

When you re-enter the common area, everyone is there. It’s down-to-Earth, you note—the thought makes your lips curl into a smile.

You spend a few moments observing. Most of the scientists look like regular people. They’re plain. Modest, simple. There’s nothing particularly special about any of them, barring their bright smiles. People involved with the RDA don’t smile like that. 

It isn’t long before the “plain scientist” exception enters via the airlock entrance. 

At first, you think he’s naked. You instinctively cover your eyes with your palms to give the guy some privacy. You faintly hear him yell something out the door through the glass—you can’t discern any of it, so it must be in Na’vi. You peek through your fingertips. 

Once the front airlock closes, the human male removes his oxygen mask, hangs it on a hook by the entrance, and presses his hand to the entryway scanner. He strolls in casually, like he owns the place. The young man wears nothing but a loincloth and carries an old leather satchel. Painted, blue streaks mark his body in horizontal stripes. 

It clicks for you quickly—he sees himself as one of them. He wears his loyalty to the Na’vi. It’s… admirable. 

When he speaks again, he greets Max in English and makes an inside joke with Norm that flies over your head. He chucks his bag onto a nearby stool and smoothes his hands over his ash-blonde dreads. 

Inevitably, you’re curious to know more. Your thoughts buzz with questions—instinctively, you’d like to interview him. 

“Food’s ready!” Norm calls. 

That’ll have to wait. 

The room descends to orderly chaos. A scientist you’ve already forgotten the name of is gathering silverware. Another gives everyone a bowl or mug. Metal chairs scrape across the floor as people line up in front of the kitchenette. Mia is adamant about having her mug, which is bright pink with a broken handle. Norm serves stew with a metal ladle. Someone else passes out dethawed bread rolls from the walk-in freezer. 

They make jokes in passing. They ask each other questions. Occasionally, they bicker, like when one of the scientists scolds Norm for giving him too big a portion. They’re a family. It’s lovely, you think. 

Then Mia calls your name. “Please,” she says, “join us!”

The room quiets down. You briefly make eye contact with the semi-nude young male. He’s around your age—maybe a year or two younger. 

Entering the common area takes only a sliver of bravery in comparison to the courage you had to collect in order to survive thus far; it’s still scary, nonetheless. You gulp. 

You’re provided a bowl. Norm serves you a heaping portion of soup. Max pours you a glass of water from a large pitcher at the end of the table. You’re offered two dinner rolls—just this once, Mia says. People move their chairs to make room for you. Your heart swells. 

“This is-” Mia begins. 

Your interruption is far from rude—you introduce yourself instead. First and last name. 

---

Dinner runs its course. It began with juvenile questions; the community simply wanted to know more about you as a person. They never banked on someone taking one of the empty bunks. They were all being used as precious storage. What’s your name? Where did you come from?

The spotlight is uncomfortable—blinding, even—but you squint through it. You want to interview these people, but it’s your turn instead. 

When some of the scientists begin asking about the RDA, however, the group rears towards an unsettling interrogation. What was it like? they ask. How many were there? Could you spare any details on the escape plan?

With every intrusive question, you intake another mouthful of the fusion stew. It tastes funny, like a bad pun or cringey joke; but you’re too hungry to care. 

“Did you ever see the General?” The human male whom you now know as Spider asks. “She was short. Blonde lady, resting bitch-face. General Ardmore?” 

Mia snorts. Norm clasps his hands together. “Alright, everyone. I think that’s enough,” he states. "Let's not overwhelm the newcomer."

The scientists look at each other, humbled and slightly ashamed. They give you apologetic stares and quiet redresses. 

Max offers to do the dishes. He knows he’ll regret this act of selflessness, but he does it for you. The rest of the scientists leave their empty bowls at the table and retreat to the barracks. Mia pats your shoulder before exiting with the others. 

You turn to Norm once everyone’s left. You hold out your bowl. “Can I have some more?”

---

You’re on your third helping of soup and fourth glass of water when there’s a series of raps at the door outside the airlock. For a split second, you’re back in your cell. You’re reminded of your least favorite warden’s early-morning roll calls. 

You flinch—your body instinctively jerks. But you don’t realize this until you’re swiftly saving your water glass from falling off the table. You rub your brow with the back of your head; you can’t break two things on your first day. 

“Is it him?” Max asks Norm. Max is elbows deep in soap suds and dirty dishes. He starts scrubbing faster. 

“Think so,” Norm replies. 

Who’s him? You’re left to wonder as you scrape the bottom of your soup bowl and take your final bite; there’s no more stew left. 

Norm stands from the table and strides over to the airlock. “Come in!”

You nearly twist your neck trying to turn around before the door opens. 

A tall, blue humanoid enters. He has to crouch when breaching the threshold—the door frame is just too short. It’s the first Na’vi you’ve seen since your interaction with the Na’vi in the forest; spare for Grace, the one in a glass tube full of liquid in the common area. 

For a moment, you think this Na’vi is the one who saved you. But as they grab a respirator mask and enter once the airlock is closed, your assumption is proved to be false. 

The Na’vi nods to Norm. “Good to see ya, Max,” the male Na’vi says, peering into the kitchen. Notably, his English is fluent; but above that, his accent is strangely commonplace among humans. Nothing like the Na’vi from the forest. 

Max peers at him over his shoulder. “You too, Jake,” Max calls back. 

Your eye twitches. You face forward. Your visage pales. 

“Let’s talk about all of this for a moment,” Norm tells Jake Sully. He agrees. Their footsteps get quieter as they walk away from the common room and round the corner. Max dries his hands with a dish towel and follows them. 

You hear bits and pieces of their hushed conversation while you chug another glass of water. 

“You’re sure?” Jake Sully asks. “Completely positive?”

“There’s no way,” one of the humans responds. “When she thought she’d been recaptured by the RDA, she tried to slit her wrists. A spy wouldn’t do that.”

Someone adds something to that point, but it’s indiscernible. 

“You’re right,” replies Jake. 

There are footsteps again. You keep your head forward. 

Max clears his throat. “You have a visitor,” Norm says. 

You push away the empty glass and bowl, then rise from your seat at the table. Your eyes meet pale yellow—the same shade as the other forest Na’vi’s irises. 

Jake opens his mouth to speak. “I’m-”

“You’re Jake Sully,” you interrupt. He’s like a myth come to life. During your imprisonment, the girls and wardens talked about him nonstop. He’s a Pandoran celebrity. 

Your face turns crimson. It’s one thing to interrupt Mia, but it’s another to interrupt the goddamn Olo'eyktan, the leader of his people. Not just any, but Jake Sully in particular. You’re mortified. 

You’re unsure how to greet him properly. Should you kneel? Your body scrambles to do the right thing—you bow, curtsey, and offer your hand to shake all at once. 

Jake Sully breathes into the respirator around his neck, veiling a small chuckle. He takes your hand and shakes it gently; due to his size, his engulfs yours. 

“Have a seat,” he says. You do.

Jake Sully can’t possibly fit in any of the chairs, so he defaults to sitting on the floor. “I may be asking for a lot,” he says. “But in order to grant you asylum here, I need to know everything.”

He is asking for a lot. You’ve been through nothing but hell. Your face heats up just thinking about the things you’ve witnessed. You don’t want to relive it. Maybe Norm stopped the others earlier because he knew this was coming. 

As you look into Jake Sully’s eyes, you know malignity isn’t his intention. It quite literally has nothing to do with you, actually. You know that the Olo'eyktan’s job is to keep his people safe. That’s Jake Sully’s motive. He has to know you’re safe. It’s a two-way street—in order to grant you safety, he must be able to ensure his own. 

---

You relay your history on Pandora thus far. It takes over an hour to get through everything. It doesn’t help when Jake asks a dozen questions, and tangents branch off into more tangents. Half-way through the conversation, however, you already know you’re earning his trust. You pinpoint the exact moment, in which Jake admits the reason he joined the RDA and decided to come to Pandora when he lived in a human body. 

It’s just the two of you now—Max finished the dishes a while ago and Norm left because he needed rest. 

Jake avoids your eyes every time you mention something particularly harrowing about your imprisonment. You’re as precise as you are descriptive. Towards the end of your testimony, he looks at his feet for ten minutes straight, while you reiterate the prison break. He can’t say much in response. He acknowledges that the ordeal must have been horrific. 

“Sounds like something out of this old dystopian novel,” Jake mutters. “I think it was called The Handmaid’s Tale.” 

Lastly, you tell him about the Na’vi in the forest who saved you. 

“Do you know him?” you inquire. 

Jake nods. “I do. His name is Neteyam.” He chooses not to elaborate. He omits the fact that Neteyam is his first-born son, next in line for his title. 

“Neteyam,” you echo. 

Jake nods again when you mimic his pronunciation. It’s not bad, he thinks. Not as bad as Neteyam said, when his son was harping on your horrible accent after bringing you, a human, to High Camp on his ikran. Something Jake never thought he’d see. 

“I’d like to thank him,” you say. “He saved my life. How do you say thank you or show gratitude?”

Jake rubs the back of his neck. “I think you should spend a week or two or three here. Take some time to yourself before you consider leaving the science shack and interacting with my people,” he says awkwardly albeit bluntly.

Your brows furrow. His tone of voice suggests there’s no room for protest. 

“Spider, Norm, Max, and everyone else will teach you the ways of the Na’vi,” Jake says. “They all speak the language fluently. And if you want to interact with and live amongst my people, then so will you.”

You nod. You consider telling him the very reason the RDA chose you and your talents—that that was exactly what you came to Pandora to do. “So I will,” you reply simply. 

“If you see us, then we will see you,” Jake says in Na’vi. 

You catch none of it, but nod confidently anyway. He scoffs. 

“Good talk,” Jake says lastly. He takes another breath through his respirator, then leaves through the airlock, just as he came. 

---

A/N: Feel free to leave any and all comments on this chapter! The exposition is almost done, just hold on a little longer! The exposition continues in the next part, but Neteyam will make an appearance, I pinky promise!

Next part is projected to come out a week from today, Tuesday. I will try to keep a consistent posting schedule.

Thank you all so much for the kind comments and notes thus far! <3

[m1tsu-ki]

OMGOMGOMGOMGOMG

We finally got an official title for Avatar 3!! 😍

‼️ Officially released concept art / Spoilers: ‼️

Lyle and Quaritch fighting along with Varang

Looks like she is wearing multiple kurus that might have been cut off from enemies

An air ship that was made by Na‘vi out of these animals named Fpxafaw / Medusa

[m1tsu-ki]

Patterns of Your Love

Neteyam x Human!Reader

✨Friendly Disclaimer: The content of this story contains aged-up characters! If this is something that makes you uncomfortable, please feel free to click or scroll away. The last thing I want is for anyone to read something they are uncomfortable with, however if you decide to interact with any negativity, you will be blocked from my blog as a result.

WARNINGS:🔞MINORS DNI🔞: Smut, P in V, Size difference, xenophilia, interspecies relations, thigh riding, fingering, Neteyam being a big softy, use of pet names, slight use of na'vi. Mentions of hickies/love bites

Credit for this artwork goes to my dear friend @zeroseydorum, Steph. I miss you dearly, love, and I hope you are safe and healthy.

The heat of the Pandoran sun radiated through the thick branches of the trees above where you and Neteyam laid in the plush grass of the forest. Neteyam’s eyes were closed, muscles relaxed as he allowed your small form to lay across his chest, his comparably large hand supporting your waist, caressing your side gently with his thumb. You were propped up on your forearms staring down at him intently, counting each of his calming breaths, noting the small occasional hums he would let slip as he exhaled. Your eyes drifted to his long braids, splayed out in the grass around his head like separate coinciding streams of water.  A sliver of sunlight painted in a diagonal line across his face. Everything about him seemed so perfect. One of the things that had immediately caught your eyes about him was his stripes. They seemed thicker in comparison to the other na’vi. Decorating his body so beautifully. Every stripe seemed purposeful. Your eyes lingered on the angled pattern on his forehead, following their flow of movement across his face. With careful fingers you raise your hand, gently gliding the tips of your fingers along his cheekbone, tracing the stripe toward the center of his face until it trails off before moving your hand up toward his forehead. Stretching your index and middle fingers apart, you place them at his hairline then slowly move them down, following the slanted lines of his stripes, progressively closing your fingers as you reach the place in the center of his brow bone. A low hum rumbled in Neteyam’s throat as your fingers repeated the action, your own mind transfixed on him, ”That feels nice…” his voice breaks the silence in a smooth whisper, a relaxed smile growing on his lips, “Does it?” you whisper back, reflecting his own smile. Your question is met with a satisfied hum in response, prompting you to repeat the action a few more times, watching Neteyam relax further under your touch. Your hand drifts down toward his chest, fingers immediately caressing the thick stripes along his pectoral, noting the brief hitch in Neteyam’s breathing as your feathery touches move across his skin. 

“What are you doing?” He asks with a slight chuckle in his voice, finally opening his eyes to look down at you. Your eyes meet his for a brief moment, returning his smile before glancing back down at the pattern on his skin, “Your stripes are so pretty” you reply, trailing your fingers down the center of his chest, noticing how his muscles tense slightly at your actions causing you to quirk a curious brow, “Is my big, mighty warrior sensitive?” You chuckle with a playful smirk. Neteyam moves his hand to caress your jaw carefully, shifting your gaze back to his own, his thumb wanting to press over your lips, mentally cursing the oxygen mask that guarded your face, “Do not tease me, little one” Neteyam scolds you with his own playful smile, “Besides… You know full well what you do to me.”. Your gaze fell from his face to his body once more, admiring his azure skin with your finger tips. As his chest faltered a bit from his shaky breath, a new idea formed in your mind. You shifted your gaze to the side of his head, where his nearly bunny-like ears flicked absentmindedly. Carefully you shift your weight forward, just enough to place your hands by the sides of his head without having to strain. Just as carefully you allow your hands to gently cup the Na’vi’s long ears, which flick a bit in response at the touch. “My yawne…” Neteyam warns in a low purr, his eyes now watching you closely in attempts to perhaps read your mind on whatever scheme you had conjured, “What are you thinking, little one?”, “Just… testing a quick theory” you whisper semi focused as you try to hide your smirk. The moment your thumb and index fingers shift to lightly pinch his ears, you get a reaction you would never expect from him; a shaky gasp sounds in the air, his muscles tighten beneath you just as his hands move to encompass you’re backside, holding you impossibly close to him. His ears now hot beneath the pads of your fingers.

Your lips loosen as you finally allow a giggle to break through them, giving another brush of your thumbs along his ears that sends shivers down Neteyam’s spine, delight painting your features while watching his eyes roll and flutter shut, only briefly. Although there is nothing particularly erotic about the rubbing of his ears, the expression and now sudden shift in the rising and falling of his chest, has your mind wandering elsewhere. Swinging a leg over his slim waist and placing your palms on his chest to steady yourself, you peer down at him with a feline smirk, “So the big tough kitty really is sensitive.”. When Neteyam’s eyes meet yours, his pupils are dilated, glazed with a softness you only ever see him give you and yet… you could swear part of that look held some sort of primal challenge. It’s when his large hands snake up your thighs that you understand the meaning of that look, “Perhaps… although aren’t humans more sensitive than na’vi?” He hums, purposely drawing out the words as his fingers purposefully caress your thighs as they make their way up to your hips, his thumbs massaging the divots there with the type of predatory gentleness that made your pulse quicken. 

“Your skin is much softer… your bodies are squishier…” Neteyam purrs, perhaps more to himself as his amber eyes follow the trailing of his hands whilst they give your hips a gentle squeeze before slowly moving upward, pushing beneath the fabric of your shirt to run his thumbs along your ribs, just under your breasts. His ears perk when the sound of your exo-pack mask enhance the sound of your staggered breathing, pulling the edge of his lips into a smirk, “See?”. You pull back out of his reach crossing your are over your chest defiantly, “What? You expect me not to react when you’re…” Neteyam cocks his head to the side, that same predatory look gleaming in his eyes. You blow out a hot breath in a fleeting attempt to slow your heart rate, momentarily fogging the glass of your mask, “Stop looking at me like that.”. 

Neteyam chuckles, shifting his weight to anchor himself onto his elbows, simultaneously causing you to adjust your own weight as well to stop you from slipping down his abs. The position mimicking that of a lion getting ready to pounce, “And how, tawtute, am I looking at you?”, “Like a cat toying with its meal before devouring it.” You huff out a nervous laugh, noting the way he leans to one side to allow one of his arms free to cup your lower back, his thumb trailing along your spine, his face coming ever so slightly closer to yours, “Is that what my sky dancer wishes? To be devoured?” Not ‘sky person’, but ‘dancer’ because you were not a human fueled by greed or destruction. You were soft, gentle, free spirited, and his. 

Yet as you stammer trying to find the words, Neteyam leans closer until his lips meet with the column of your throat, extinguishing your tongue of any protest or comeback you would’ve conjured and leaving it with only the ability to sigh, leaning into his touch, your fingers instinctually weaving through his braids. His hold on your lower back remains firm as he carefully shifts into a sitting position, his other hand holding the side of your face, to which you have zero hesitation in leaning into the warmth of his palm, presenting more of your neck to him. A low sultry purr answers your gesture in thanks as his lips begin leaving kiss after wet kiss along your throat while his hand at your lower back drifts up your torso, proceeding his conquest in teasing the underside of your breast. Your breath catches for a moment and Neteyam’s lips ascend to your ear, his exhale against it causing you to shiver, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth, “Shall we see what noises I can squeeze out of you?” Neteyam whispers, his hand making the shift to finally touch your aching breast, his fingers tracing along its peak before giving it an experimental squeeze to emphasize his words. 

Your lips part as the warmth of his palm encompasses your mound, his calluses pulling at the sensitive skin of your peaked nipple with the motion in a way that has you immediately biting your lip again. A thud sounds from behind Neteyam at the impatient bat of his tail against the ground. While he was no stranger to this song and dance of trying to coax the most delicious sounds from you, it still made him somewhat annoyed when he didn’t get immediate results for his excursions. “How my sky dancer loves to play…” Neteyam murmurs against the skin of your neck, dragging his lips down to the peak of your collarbone, “Play as you like, yawne. I will have you singing soon enough.” he purrs, giving your breast in his hand a more assertive squeeze as his tongue glides back up the column of your throat, the fangs of his bottom jaw dragging slightly, in a way that has your body arching into him in response, finally drawing a sweet, lust coated whimper from your lips. You can feel Neteyam's satisfied smirk against your neck, as well as that same satisfaction forming into a firmness that is now pressing into you as you sit on his lap, “Miklor…”(beautiful sounding). Fuck if hearing him speak his mother tongue didn't instantly turn you into a puddle, then the clenching of your core would definitely do the trick. The growing need to have him impossibly closer, touching every inch of you, filling you, ebbed at the corners of your mind, beckoning desire to the forefront that had you squirming against the hardness that pressed against your clothed ass. The seam of your shorts grinding so deliciously against the thin fabric of his loincloth had Neteyam huffing out a ragged breath that sent a chill down your spine. Neteyam's hand pressed at your lower back, held you firmly against him, whilst the middle finger of his hand that remained under your shirt stroked tight, lazy circles around the perked bud of your breast, his mouth busy with adorning your neck in love bites for you to return to the lab with later, all of it dousing your body in heat, you wouldn't be surprised if the blood in your veins had become molten lava, “Teyam…” you coo, fisting your hands in his braids, a low purr rumbling in his chest at the sound, before using your hold on his braids to urge him back and off your neck, “No more playing,” you whisper breathlessly, wining your hips against him for emphasis, “please.”. He needed no further explanation of your wants, yet his eyes took in your body, possibilities of how this could go painting a string of pictures in his mind, by the hungry look in them. “Stand for me, ma'yawntu. Strip.” The command coming out gentle on his tongue as you watched you rise, his hand drifting behind himself to untie the knot of his loincloth, the minute your skin left his, his eyes never leaving your own for a moment, even as he tossed the flimsy garment to the side, perching to sit on his knees as he gave himself a long and slow stroke. 

You swallowed the excess saliva that had manifested in your mouth at the sight as your hands moved to first remove your top, then your shoes, moving slowly in an effort to give him a good show. As you moved to remove your panties along with your shorts, Neteyam’s “No,” halted your movments, “Leave those for me.”. You obliged him, stepping out of your shorts and walking between his parted knees, Neteyam's hands instinctively reaching up to guide you, resting on your hips, pulling you closer until his lips met with your soft stomach. His thumbs slide over the band of your panties whilst he continue to leave kisses along your belly, his eyes lifting toward your own for only a moment, before his fingers delicately looping around the top of your panties, before pulling them gently down your legs. The scent of your bare arousal was enough to send a shiver through Neteyam’s spine, making his body go rigid, as his eyes rolled back before closing, his teeth nipping lovingly at your stomach that despite his restraint, had you yelping with slight surprise. “You complain a lot about my own playing, when you can't even seem to stop, yourself.” you protest, shifting your hips to avert his attention from your stomach down to the aching between your thighs. You hadn't even registered that one of Neteyam's hands had drifted down your leg, until you felt his calloused fingertips smoothing over your inner thigh, traveling higher and higher until two of them glide through your wet folds, just enough to part them.

Your pulse immediately jumps, your hands anchoring on his shoulders to steady yourself, “Mmn, but it is so fun to watch you squirm, yawne. It delights me to see my mate act so needy for me.” Neteyam purrs, dragging the lubricated fingers over your clit, slowly circling it whilst your hips buck at the touch, the nerves in your thighs demanding to close, which takes nearly every muscle in your body not to obey; to let Neteyam swirl your bundle of nerves and whined the forming knot in your stomach tighter, the mental leash you had on your vocal cords long forgotten, relinquishing sweet music for Neteyam's ears. “Awe, my sweet mate makes such pretty noises… tell me how good it feels, yawne.”. Your mind seems full of static, only being able to process the feeling of his fingers, the tightening in your core, your only response being to chase his fingers by swaying your hips along with him. “Uh- uh… use that pretty voice, love.” he urges, poking at your entrance with his fingertips for extra motivation. You swallow thickly, trying to steady your breathing as to try to make your voice as clear as possible, yet to no avail as your words come out nearly trembling, “It feels so good Teyam, I…I can hardly keep standing like this.”, “Oh?” and with that his fingers submerge themselves into your soaked cunt, scissoring twice to help with the stretch. The sound that breaks from you is like a song from the great mother herself, your fingernails digging into the blue muscles of his shoulder as your hips instinctively move against his hand, “More… more…”, “You want more, yawne? I've hardly started… so greedy.” Neteyam hums not sounding at all upset as his fingers curl against the spongy bit inside of you. “My greedy little sky dancer… I want to watch you dance for me…” he whispers, hot breath fanning against your ear and much to your dismay, Neteyam removes his fingers from within you, a whine that wasn't completely voluntary, following it from your throat.

Your growing pout causes Neteyam to chuckle as he shifts his weight slightly, still resting on his knees, but now sitting on his heels, the back of his hand now placed purposefully atop his thigh, his fingers still glistening with your juices now pointing skyward, “Sit.”. The command was simple enough, but you couldn’t stop the drifting of your eyes to the place between his thighs, where his cock twitched in eagerly. “That is for later, for now…” He curled his fingers in a sort of beckoning motion, “sit.”. You didn't recall how many steps it took until you were straddling Neteyam's thigh and you couldn't find it in you to care at the tips of his fingers brush your folds, his thumb gently swiping over your clit as you lowered yourself onto him, sinking his fingers back home. “Ahh~...” You moan as you sit completely on his thigh, with Neteyam now knuckle deep in your sex. “Mmnh you’re so warm inside, yawne.. so tight. Let us get you ready for more, hm? Dance…” he cooed sweetly, his fingers repeating that beckoning motion inside of you that serves as enough to jumpstart your movements. You grind your hips into his palm, your juices squelching below you with the motion. For a moment you see Neteyam's eyelids flutter, his lips curl back in the slightest of snarls, before settling for a look so heavy with lust it had you swearing under your breath, you nearly thought you'd combust at the sight alone. Sparing a glance between his legs once again, you witnessed the evidence of that look. His cock nearly red at the tip, twitching with each sway of your hips, as if he were imagining it inside of you instead of his fingers. You knew if you were his size, a na'vi, he wouldn't have wasted a second before burying himself in you, but alas, you were a fragile human. A small delicate thing that, despite whatever protests you could throw his way, you know that Neteyam would always take his time with you. “Eyes on me, yawne.” Neteyam says in more of a growl, as if just the sight of you looking at his was shredding his self control, yet before you could so much as lift your gaze- “Haah! Tey-.” he began bouncing his leg, thus you along with it, sending you up and down on his fingers at his will. Your fingernails nearly broke skin as you bounced atop his legs, moaning uncontrollably as he fucked you on his fingers. 

Neteyam's gaze seemed to devour you like a piece of art; watching the each bounce of your breasts, the juices painting his palm and thigh, thrust after thrust how they pooled on his blue skin. It was almost to much, his cock was aching to the point of pain- and then he felt your touch on it's head, not even processing when or how your hand had gone from gripping his shoulder, to rolling his cock head in your palm and… fuck did it feel good. Too good. It was almost too easy to imagine pinning you on the forest floor, lining himself with your cunt and- No, you needed to finish first before he could have you. He needed to be sure you were ready for him. Your body trembled as Neteyam began curling his fingers repeatedly as he continued to bounce his leg, the mixed sensation throwing you into the merciful arms of release as you writhed and shook, mewling out in a hitched voice as you came undone. He continued, slowly the bouncing of his thigh and shifting his curling fingers in the massaging motion, letting you ride out your high. Neteyam huffed a small laugh as your forehead leaned against his chest for support, your breathing heavy and uneven. “You… you play too much, Teyam.”, this prompted another laugh as Neteyam lowered his knee, his free hand snaking from your hip to around your backside, as he carefully lowered you onto the plush grass. Once your back was flush against the ground, Neteyam now leaning over you, he withdrew his fingers, bringing them below pelvis to smear your lingering juices along his shaft, letting out a sigh at the contact, a sound that had your chest tightening. He had been so patient, so gentle, and now you would reward him for his efforts. 

Slowly you spread your legs wide, bringing your knees to your chest, watching as Neteyam continued to give himself a few more pumps to ease the hurt. When his eyes finally lifted to see you spread before him, the sound that came from him was nothing, but primal need. He ran his tongue over his lips to moisten them as he carefully leaned down, bringing your face closer to his own until his forehead rested against yours. Despite the hunger, his amber eyes swam with so much Earth shattering love that you felt you could weep and perhaps it showed in your face, because Neteyam cooed your name so softly and sincerely you almost didn't hear it, before he raised his lips to kiss your hairline, once again mentally cursing the obstruction of your mask that kept him from kissing your lips. When he pulled away, it was only enough to weave a hand between you to guide his cock closer to where you both longed for him to be. At the feel of his tip prodding at your entrance, Neteyam leaned down to place a gentle kiss at your ear, whispering sweet praises as inch by delicious, suffocating, filling inch he pushed into you. The shudder that rippled down his back muscles as your tightness took hold of him, as if it would never let go. “Siltsan, ma’ syulang…” (Well done, my flower). As Neteyam looked up to take in your expression, he found your eyes closed, brows scrunched, but not in pain as you breathed, “I don't think I'll ever get used to that first thrust… thank Eywa.”. 

Neteyam couldn't help, but chuckle before leaning down to bite your earlobe, “Such a dirty mouth on my mate…” he cooed, yet as you were about to retort, Neteyam pulled out slightly before plunging back in, his muscles flexing at the motion. “Ohh…shit…”, the curse natural on his tongue as again he thrusted slowly into you. The fifth time his tip pressed kissed your cervix, Neteyam had to bite back a growl. He was desperate, but he wouldn’t allow himself to throw caution to the wind, not just for your safety, but to savor this feeling for as long as he could. He maneuvered enough to set your legs over his shoulders, his knees spreading wider through the grass as he scooped an arm beneath your shoulders, pressing your front flush against his own seamlessly, like he was trying to get as close to you as possible- to force your bodies to become one and when he rolled his hips again, you rolled yours with him. Neteyam's ears pressed flat against the sides of his head and he let out a soft whimper, he was content to stay like this forever. “Teyam, please…” You begged, rolling your hips before he could move again, giving his cock a loving squeeze with a clench of your inner walls and with it, an invisible tether had broken loose. Neteyam reeled his hips back at the same steady pace he had, but when he drove back in, your body bucked with his. “Fuck! yes… like that… please.” and he did, again and again, faster, harder, until it was all he could do to bring your hips down onto each of his thrusts, driving your back into the grass each time. His lips were in a frenzy on your ears, neck and chest; wherever he could reach, you decorated your skin in wet kisses, nips, and licks and you couldn't find it within you to give a shit about how many marks he was leaving, not when it meant he was putting his claim on you in the most intimate way he could, Your body writhed and bucked beneath him, your legs that had been barking for being in the same position too long, had become an after thought as one ograsm began as another ended. 

Only when Neteyam pulled away, wrapping your legs around his slim waist did you suddenly remember they needed relief, yet the euphoria of it was short lived as you were hauled into his lap, both arms wrapping around you as he somehow drove himself deeper at the new angle. Neteyam buried his face between your neck and shoulder, his grunts and moans lingering in your ear. He was close, the breathless whines that new fell from his lips indicated as much. So close you could feel the restraint in his thrusts, where one moment he pistoned into you, filling the space around you with wet slapping, the next he held your pelvis flush against his own as he ground himself into you. Your brows furrowed through your mask as his whines became more pitched, desperate you realized, like the finish line was nearly there, yet somehow out of reach. So you did what you could, clinging to him and whispering in his ear between moans, “I love you.”, “I love you.”, “My mate.”, “Mine.”, it was the last two words that clanged through him like a burst of energy as Neteyam gave a few rough thrusts, bringing your body to meet them each time, that he finally went over the edge, spilling as much of his seed as he could into you before it began to spill where you were still connected. 

The moment he stilled inside of you, you both let out a sigh in unison, your bodies drenched with sweat, skin hot and sticky to the touch. It was when you each pulled back to look at each other that Neteyam’s eyes widened, taking in your body before him. “What? What's wrong?” You immediately ask, following his gaze, but that was all the proof you needed. From what you could see, your chest was littered with redish-purple spots, which you could only assume were on your neck as well, and then the embarrassment of having to walk into the lab like this hit. Neteyam merely laughed, trying as gentle as possible to lay you back down on the grass, withdrawing himself from you before laying on his side beside you. “You say my stripes are pretty, but I must say… I do find spots to be a good look on you.” then you laughed with him only after feining disapproval at his joke, giving his shoulder a playful shove before snuggling into his warmth. 

Hi loves! Sorry for being away for so long, but I hope this makes up for it. Love you guys so so much, thank you all for the supportive comments and asks you've sent me, it really has meant a lot.

Taglist:

@luvv4j4ybe11, @sullybothersmate ,@yourfavwh0r3 @Awiltedpeony @xylianasblog @pandoraslxna @blue-slxt @hotdsworld @itchaboi-itchyboy @erenjaegerwifee

[m1tsu-ki]

sheesh

Doctor Jack Dawkins Masterlist No.1

Little Vampire - Smut

Not On Your Life - Cute

Not Now - Cute

What - Sweet

Secret - Sad

Hysteria - Smut

Hysteria p2 - Smut

Wicked - Smut

Scrubber Girl - Flirty

Morning Maid - Flirty

Thunderstorm - Sweet

My Turn - Smut

Morning - Flirty

I Can Explain - Cute

Someone Who Loves You - Sweet

Hypothetically - Smutty Discussions

Hopelessly - Smut

Hopelessly P2 - Flirty

Hopelessly P3 - Smut

Y/n! - Flirty

Breathless - Flirty

Breathless P2 - Sweet

Breathless P3 - Sweet

Gentlemen - Smut

Just For A Moment - Smutty

I'm Gonna Kill Him - Smut

Bump - Sweet

Bump P2 - Dark

Bump P3 - Sweet

Pouty - Smut

Right Right - Flirty

Song Of The Sea - Spooky

Song Of The Sea P2 - Smut

Wakey Wakey - Smut

... Because He Knows I Love You - Flirty

Just To Spite You - Flirty

Good News - Flirty

The Mademoiselle - Smut

The Mademoiselle P2 - Smutty

The Mademoiselle P3 - Adorable

Just The Three Of Us - Smut

Idiot - Adorable

Just Breathe With Me - Sweet

The Best Way To Start The Day - Smut

Favourite Patient - Sweet

What Are You Doing Here!? - Sweet

Please - Sad

It's Dr Dawkins - Sweet

The Event - Smut

Married Woman - Flirty

I'm Listening - Sweet

Britches - Flirty

I Dare You - Funny

I Date You P2 - Smut

I Dare You P3 - Smut

The Magic Of Men - Smutty

Book Dragon - Sweet

Young Love - Sweet

Young Love P2 - Smut

Young Love P3 - Smut

Sugar - Sweet

Little Sister - Sweet

Little Sister P2 - Sweet

Worship My God - SMUT

Future - Sad

Future P2 - Dark

What Is The Meaning Of This! - Smutty

My Mistake To Make - Angry

Blue Bow - Smut

Battle Scars - Sweet

Doctor! Doctor! - Flirty

Doctor! Doctor! P2 - Smut

Kitten - Cute

Words Swirl On The Page - Sweet

Across The Courtyard - Smut

Good Morning - Smut

Charming - Sexy

Commission Page

[m1tsu-ki]

a helping hand

aged up!neteyam x fem omatikaya!reader

summary: it’s late at night and you’re struggling. not only can you not fall asleep but there’s a sudden ache in your core. now what type of mate would neteyam be if he didn’t help you?

warnings: 🔞NEASSTYY smut, masterbation, fingering, missionary, riding, doggystyle, p in v, squirting, can’t spell mother without mo’at, neteyam being jumpscared but then turn into a freak, reader has no shame, & dirty talk

authore note: i had a daydream abt this and needed it come to life 😫 (unlike neteyam) & yall if i make a taglist would anyone wanna be apart of it LMAO 🧍🏽‍♀️hope this makes up for my mini absence on not posting 😇

bye this took forever.. guys pls don’t be shy, i loveeee any type of feedback 🥲

You let out a long sigh in exhaustion as you dropped the second batch of medicine you just made. You couldn’t understand what was going on with you. This was happening all day today, constant screw ups and honestly you were over it.

Inhaling a deep breath in attempt to calm yourself, you started cleaning up the herbs. As you were cleaning up, you failed to notice the presence of your tsahík making you slightly startled.

“What is this?” Mo’at gestured to the mess on the floor. Your cheeks heated up in embarrassment and you squeaked out a little “Hi”

She sighed and walked over to your kneeling position. You pursed your lips feeling disappointed in yourself. “My child” Mo’at grabbed you from out of your thoughts “You need to relax”

Your tensed shoulders slowly started easing at her words. “I apologize” you muttered respectfully. “It is alright dear, now tell me what is bothering you” she walked in front of you putting her hands out for you to grab. With her words of encouragement, you picked yourself off of the ground. Avoiding her cold harden gaze you felt your emotions rushing back to you.

While looking around the healing tent your eyes accidentally landed on hers. Her eyes piercing directly into yours commanding an answer.

“I feel like a failure” you finally admitted. “What makes you feel that way?” she questioned motioning you to sit on the mat beside her.

“Many women in the past have succeeded beyond my level. Why am I so far behind? I should be able to do this, how can i ever be tsahík if I can’t complete a simple task such as making medicine?” you huffed in frustration after your rant. Mo’at gave you an understanding look before taking her hands in yours “Child, it takes time” she started “but I don’t have much time! Neteyam is granted to be olo’eyktan soon and-” you stated before it was her turn to cut you off.

“What does Neteyam becoming olo’eyktan soon have to do with any of this?” she squinted her eyes at you. “He is my mate” you shrugged. “Exactly , he is your mate, not your conjoined twin!” she exclaimed causing you to let out a breathy chuckle.

“The two of you are completely different people. His learning pace is different than yours and that is okay. Neteyam has been training since he was in the womb, he’s meant for this” your eyes landed on hers as you digested what she was saying. “You on the other hand, have not. You didn’t expect to mate with my grandson but I am glad that you did” she looked you up and down with a sigh of relief.

“Why you say it like that?” you laughed at her sudden look of disapproval. She looked at you with a straight face “I was afraid our village would’ve come to doom had Neteyam picked any of those thirsty women, I don’t know how their mothers do it” she spoke with an eye roll at the memory of many annoying girls trying to get neteyam to court them.

‘What a time’ you thought. Before you and neteyam had become mates, when the two of you were just friends. Time had really gone fast.

Mo’at noticed your dazed out expression knowing you were thinking about your progressive relationship with her grandson. She smiled seeing a bit of herself in you when she had her own mate. She used to be in this exact situation which is why she was able to relate to you.

Snatching you out of your thoughts once again she spoke up breaking the newfound comfortable silence “I used to be in your exact position” your attention went back on her with hopeful eyes “For real? but you’re the best tsahik we’ve ever had” you rambled “I know” she smiled in pride causing you to giggle.

“My point is, practice makes perfect. That is a term i have learned from the sky people here and it is one of the only things they said that are true. You will not get it the first tries, but don’t give up and keep going. Success will come your way, my child” she nodded her head at you in approval

You nodded your head back and felt a sudden rush of confidence run through you. If Mo’at who was honestly one of the strongest people you knew was able to run this clan, so could you.

“You give me hope Ma’ Tsahík” you smiled at her gently squeezing her hands “Oh please, we discussed this, you can call me grandmother” you placed your arms around her for a well needed hug. She tensed before relaxing as she hugged you back with genuine love.

“Besides, I have hopes that there will soon be little ones calling me great grandmother” she pulled away with a smirk and hope glistening in her eyes. A blush crept onto your cheek before laughing at what she was implying “You’re funny”

She began walking you towards the makeshift door to exit out of the healing tent as you discussed your plans for tomorrow. Your ikran landing on a nearby cliff after sensing your presence. Before you were able to fully leave Mo’at reminded you of something “Don’t forget the war party returns tonight, I will not be present but will you able to make sure everyone is in one piece?”

Your eyes widened in realization, Neteyam was returning in a few hours. He had went on a one week hunting trip and you had been missing him like crazy. How could you forget? You figured spending time with Mo’at and being occupied your mind had let that slip.

“Fuck” you mumbled. “Yes! I can do that don’t worry! I’ll see you tomorrow grandmother. Take some rest you deserve it” you yelled out as you sprinted towards your ikran to go home.

You had spent all day at the healing tent that you had no time to prepare for Neteyam’s return. Even though he told you multiple times that as long as you were there he is more than satisfied and he just needed to be wrapped around you.

However, you were still insistent on setting atleast something up for him, what kind of wife would you be? Neteyam was the best husband any one could ever asked for. Always putting you and others above himself, making several sacrifices and just being overall selfless. So you had no problem with being a little housewife.

Once your ikran had landed at the home that Neteyam literally built for your future family. You felt your body getting excited at his soon to come arrival, you had missed your man dearly and you knew once you were in his arms all your problems will disappear.

“My love? I’m home” Neteyam called out as he walked through the door. Immediately frowning once he didn’t see you, however he did notice several candles lit up so he knew you were home.

Walking towards the candles he also noticed a platter of his favorite foods. A smile emerged on his face he bent down to sit as he waited for you since he was sure you would reveal yourself any second. His guess was correct as you slowly appeared in the makeshift door way of your home in a newly made outfit “Welcome home handsome”

Neteyam’s ears perked up at the sound of your voice and your scent. Turning around to finally have a look as his eyes widened. Your azure skin was complimented by green and blue jewels. Your loincloth and top were scattered with them, along with small purple crystals dangling from the pieces. Your cleavage was on display just for him but also not enough in order to tease him. You took your braids out so your hair had the most perfect waves which was a style you knew Neteyam adored.

The forest inspired outfit you had done left him completely star struck. You were the most beautiful woman he had ever laid his eyes on, and you were all for him. He was so in awe of you he didn’t even notice you were now sat next to him until you said something.

“Handsome you alright? Welcome home” you placed a hand on his cheek before placing a gentle but loving kiss on his lips. He decided to make a move by tilting his head to deepen the kiss, slickly sliding his tongue once you let out a small gasp into his mouth. You giggled into the kiss at his antics causing him to giggle with you before he playfully bit your lip with a smirk.

The two of you leaned away to finally look into the other’s eyes. His eyes were full with so much love you swore they would’ve burst. “Hi beautiful” he rubbed your cheek softly. You nuzzled your face into his hand with a contented sigh finally feeling at peace.

Your gaze met his as a sigh left his mouth. “What is it?” you lifted your head. He stared at you not saying anything. You started becoming nervous under his gaze and debated whether this was too much or not. You were about to speak up about his behavior until he beat you to it.

“You’re just so” he paused to take another moment to admire you “so so beautiful” his voice lowered as his eyes trailed downwards. A heat started to spread across your cheeks as you smiled at him.

For he rest of the night the two of you caught up on everything. He explained how he made several successful kills during the hunt leading to you giving him kisses in reward as you praised him. On the other hand, you came clean to him about how your tsahík training was actually going. He could tell you were very stressed out, encouraging you to take your time and not worry because he will be by your side every step of the way.

Your mind was racing with thoughts as Neteyam peacefully slept on your chest. The two of you cuddled up on your shared bed. After talking for a few hours, time caught up to Neteyam and his tiredness consumed him. You were very understanding and insisted on him getting some rest, even including yourself by laying with him.

But as time went on you couldn’t help but think about the time he was gone. How many nights you were forced to fall asleep without a release. As you debated with yourself on what to do, your mind eventually came to a conclusion. Trying to be as quiet as possible, you gently pushed Neteyam of you, still beside him so he wouldn’t wake up, while slowly trailing your hand down your loincloth.

You were so close. The pit of your stomach tightening more and more with each flick to your clit. It was like you were running to the finish line in slow motion, yet almost there. In just a couple of seconds that knot would finally snapped and you would be stress free. Which is what you desperately needed.

So caught up in your own bliss you didn’t realize the movement from beside you, right when your core was at its peak your fingers stopped at what you heard, losing your hard worked orgasm.

“What are you doing?” Neteyam asked in a quiet voice staring at the side of your face. Your heart physically stopped and dropped for a second. Eywa please say this was just a dream, but no, this was actually a nightmare.

You heard shuffling next to you and finally got the courage to look over at him only to be met with a blank stare “Go ‘head, continue” he licked his lips looking you up and down

You shook your head as frustrated tears filled your eyes. He chuckled before looking down in disbelief “Nah, you wanted to touch yourself right? So finish before I do it for you”

At his words you swore your orgasm would’ve just shot right out of you despite no physical contact, his words just had that affect on you. You bit your lip in anticipation as you pulled your hand away from your pussy and spread your legs further

“Please” you whimpered looking up at him desperately. “Please what baby?” his head tilted as he caressed your cheek lovingly. “Touch me” you whispered dragging his other hand down to your now dripping cunt. He snarled before cupping your pussy while slightly grinding his palm against your throbbing clit.

“Oh I’m gonna do more than touch you, just wait” he smiled before leaning over to kiss a trail across your stomach. Your breath hitched, you were in for it now. “Neteyam” you whined as his lips got more aggressive on your skin. “A week without my attention and you just don’t know how to act, huh?” he shook his head. Your breath got caught in your throat “That’s not true” your voice was barely a whisper.

“It’s not? Over here touchin’ yourself while i’m sleeping right there. You wanted to get caught, didn’t you yawne?” he hovered over you

“Maybe” you bit your lip seductively as the excitement of all of this grew inside of you

He dragged a finger along your slit, gathering up some already built up slick. “All you gotta do is think ‘bout me huh?” he asked looking up at you. “And look at you” you replied cheeky with a lopsided grin. Deciding to be bold, you grabbed onto his hand to press it against your soaked pussy.

“This is what you do to me Neteyam” you moved his hand up and down slowly as wet sounds started filling up the room. He growled as he inhaled your scent “dirty girl”

You laughed breathless as your previous orgasm slowly approached you again. Neteyam, being an expert in your body language already knew this as he continued to watch you, allowing you to use him for pleasure. It’s what you been doing while he was away anyways.

He licked his lips before trailing kisses all over your body. Starting from your cheek, to your neck, then your chest and as he moved downwards his kisses became more aggressive on your stomach. Each time a kiss ended a ‘pop’ would be heard.

You gasped when his slender finger suddenly slipped in, a smirk on his face. He curled his finger at the perfect angle, hitting that squishy spot inside of you that he knew always drove you crazy.

“Oh! I’m so close” you whimpered within seconds. Neteyam helping you reach your peak with ease. “Go ‘head, let it out” he sloppily kissed your clit. At the much needed contact your orgasm flowed right through you. Your mouth opened as a silent scream left you.

“Yeah, yeah make that pussy squirt for me” he spoke lowly rubbing your puffy clit at a fast pace to work you through your orgasm. “Teyam” you whined trying to close your thighs around his hand.

“Unt unt, no, we’re not done” he sat up looking down at you. Your eyes widened as you watched his hands move towards his loincloth to untie it. You inhaled a deep breath at the sight of his cock now in your view. He loosened his loincloth completely as it was now pooled at the bottom of thighs, removing it entirely and throwing it across the room.

“You’ve been so, so greedy. Tell me, do you want it slow or for me to fuck you like I’ve been dying to do?” his voice came out raspy as he placed lighthearted kisses against your neck.

Your body stiffened, your words getting stuck in your throat as you didn’t know what to say. “I-I- just need you Teyam. So bad” you whined.

“How bad baby?” his eyes met yours as he stroked his cock directly in front of your warm sex. His bottom lip was trapped between his teeth, a wet sound could be heard from the amount of pre cum gathered on his tip. You were so incredibly turned on by him, your body proving that as your cunt clenched around nothing.

“So bad, I want-need you to destroy me.” you ran your hands across his chest. “Fuck me until i have nothing left to give, stuff me to the brim, I want it all, I can take it. I’ll be your good girl, I promise” and if he wasn’t already turned on by just the pure sight of you the words that left your mouth was enough for him to slide his dick inside of you.

The both of you let out long moans at the familiar feeling. Having to be away from each other for a long period of time was hard, but now you guys were together, intertwined.

“Fuuuckk” he moaned looking down at the source of pleasure. You whined and brought your legs to wrap around his waist, bringing him closer to place kisses all over his face.

“I’m all yours, all yours” you whispered in his ear before kissing it gently

“Yeah? You’re all mine? Say that shit again”

“I’m all yours neteyam” a whine leaving your mouth as he grinded on top of you creating the perfect amount of friction

He purred quietly at your words, nuzzling the side of his face into yours and bringing you into a much needed kiss. Causing you to mumble against his lips “I love you”

“I love you more” he placed his hands onto your hips. “You gonna let me fuck you? You’re gonna be good and take it right? he sat up to look down at you.

You pushed your hips up, hoping to answer his question. Circling your hips to feel some friction as he bottomed out inside of you, smirking at him.

Finally feeling satisfied with your response, he started to move. “Shit” he groaned as he felt your sticky walls contract around him. He smirked at your not so slick antics before starting to thrust inside of you. Your whines started to fill up the room along with quiet slapping noises. “Oh Neteyam!” you moaned out scratching his back.

“I been waiting to fuck you for so long baby, I’m right here” he growled in your ear, placing one of his hands on your hips to steady his harsh thrusts.

You started letting out soft moans feeling him go deeper and deeper, your juices making it easier for him to hit spots inside of you only he could reach.

You screamed as his hands made its way behind your thighs to hold them up in the air. Taking this as a sign, your hands replaced his as you now held onto the back of your thighs. “Good girl” he mumbled drilling his dick inside of you

“Mhm, dick- so, so good, yes!” you babbled out complete nonsense but he knew what you were trying to say. “This dick is just soooo good, huh?” he chuckled teasingly

His pace was becoming almost painful but in the most pleasurable way possible as he continued fucking you relentlessly. Pushing your thighs all the up so they were pressed firmly against your chest. Completely folding you just the way he wanted, not having any mercy on you or your poor cunt.

The most obscene sounds consuming the room, all that could be heard is skin slapping, your fucked out screams and his grunts.

“Ugh, don’t stop! Right there, Oh right there!” you whimpered as he jackhammered your pussy

“I’m not gonna stop my love, this pussy is way too good” he mumbled rolling his hips into you as his thrusts became sloppy. You felt your stomach tightening and your cunt clenching rapidly as a signal you were close.

“You’re gonna make me cum” you moaned as you held onto him for dear life. he reached down to be face to face with you before whispering in your ear “Then cum my love”

At his words you completely let go with a scream as you threw your head back. Your orgasm leaked out of you making your privates even wetter. You weren’t embarrassed per say, but every time this happens you kind of shy away from it. Neteyam on the other hand never did and he found it so attractive, he was the only one who got you like this.

“We made a mess baby” he smirked before looking down between your bodies. ”I know” your cheeks heated up and you looked up away from him. “Nah, don’t be shy now” he laughed at you before leaning up to pull out of you, he assumed you were tired and wanted to call it quits, but oh your man just had no idea how badly you really needed him.

Within a couple of seconds, he was laid out on his back with you hovering over him. Your plump lips slightly swollen from the amount of kisses and moaning, the tits that he loved so much on a perfect eye level so he could trail his tongue around your sensitive nipples, your slim waist that he loved so much, fuck. you were truly a goddess on display.

“You’re so sexy” you moaned biting your lip as you rubbed your sensitive clit on his abs making them tense. Not that he was completely on soft anyways, but now he was rock hard again.

“Don’t play with me babe, if you wanna do something then do it” he smirked at you before he placed his bottom lip between his teeth. You smiled at him with pure adoration before reaching behind you to grab his wet cock to line it up with your drenched hole.

Sinking down onto him with a contented sigh, the familiar feeling of his dick filling you up once again. Light moans from you and Neteyam filling up the hut. A hum from Neteyam catching your attention, his head firm against the pillow as his mouth slowly formed in an ‘O’ shape.

You felt your insides tingling knowing you were the reason because of that, bringing him pleasure. Catching him out of a trance you rolled your pelvis against his, his tip kissing your g spot perfectly.

“Baby” he whispered lowly as his eyes were hooded as he looked at you. “Yes?” You smiled bringing a hand to his neck up to his cheek. “C’mon” he impatiently moved your hips back and forth signaling what he wanted

With a proud smirk on your face, you made sure your knees were placed firmly beside his hips while perching yourself on your tippy toes for balance. “Ready?” you adjusted to his size

“Always” he cockily bit his lip and closed his eyes as he began to relax while you fucked him. Gathering up the confidence, you pushed your hips up until his throbbing tip was the only thing inside of you before slamming back down.

A loud moan left the both of you. You looked at Neteyam through your lashes; his eyes slightly rolling to the back of his head, he was enjoying this. Repeating the same action, each time a perfect stroke against your g spot causing you to cry out and drip. After gaining some rhythm with your hips, you were riding him like there was no tomorrow.

“Hmm, oh my gosh” you moaned loudly throwing your head back as you slammed down onto him harder, the pleasure consuming all parts of your body and you didn’t want it to stop. “So fucking- ugh” he was cut off when you started to circle your hips.

You leaned forward placing your hands beside his head as you placed your mouth by his ear. He smiled up at you before putting a hand on your lower back. Deciding to be bold, you moved your hips in a specific motion which led to his eyes widening in realization.

“Told you I’m all yours baby” you whined in his ear as you continued spelling his name with your hips

He placed a hard spank on your ass, a chuckle leaving his lips “Damn right you are, no one is ever fucking you the way I do right?”

You let out a moan once his hips roughly thrusted towards yours, him meeting your thrust more than half way. “Answer me” he demanded forcing your hips up and down. “N-no!” your voice shook as your guts got played in

“Neteyaaam” you moaned as your legs were starting to give out from his harsh thrusts. “Gonna cum, hm?” he trialed his thick tongue around your perky nipples, a bolt of electricity running through you due to the amount of pleasure.

“Yes! Yes please let me cum” you begged placing your hands on his shoulders. “I was never gonna deny you release baby” he laughed at your vulnerable state, clearly amused at how much you really needed him to fuck some brain cells back into you.

“Mhm, turn around” he moaned giving your ass a hard smack before gripping it gently. You gave him a smirk before placing your hands on his chest for balance while getting off of him. Turning around, making sure to give him a perfect view, your round ass on display just for him along with your slick pussy lips. He moaned at the sight before placing another firm slap on the flesh.

You giggled while sliding back on his thick cock that was desperately waiting for your dripping cunt “My ass is gonna fall off with how much you smack it”

“I don’t give a fuck, it’s mine right?” he smiled behind your back while gripping the flesh tightly with both hands. “Obsessed” you mumbled before leaning forward to place your hands on his knees for balance as you began going crazy on top of him.

“Yeah put it on me, juuuuusst like that” he moaned watching your ass ripple against his pelvis. “Oh! Mhm, I- FUCK!” you screamed using all your force to slam down onto him. Your eyes crossing as his warm sack met your clit.

“Damn mama” Neteyam looked in awe as strings of your juices started to create lines all over your privates; moans getting louder as the both of you approached your peaks.

“I’m gonna fucking cum” your voice getting higher after each word from every thrust into your core. “S-Same time baby” he stuttered holding onto your hips as the knot in his stomach finally unraveled.

His seed flowing through you was enough to trigger your own orgasm as you let go on top of him. Your guys’ cum now mixed together pooled all over each other’s thighs.

Your breathing slowly became steady as your legs staggered while trying to get off of him. “Let me help you” a raspy voice was heard behind you. However, it wasn’t long until you were set up face down ass up.

“You’re actually trying to kill me” you muttered turning your head to look back at Neteyam. “Kill the cat” he winked at you while playing with your swaying tail.

You bit back a smile before pushing your ass back onto him; making sure to hold eye contact with him the whole time. An obvious smirk on your lips as you teased him.

You were caught off guard by a stinging pain on your right cheek. “You know what-” you started before being caught off by a harsh thrust into your cunt.

Neteyam set a merciless rhythm from the beginning. He was determined to have you worn out by the end of this round, wanting you to sleep real good in his arms tonight which is right where you belonged.

“NETEYAM!” you screamed plunging your face into the sheets as you gripped onto them tightly causing your knuckles to turn white. “I really wish you could see this baby” he groaned watching himself go in and out

“Oh great mother! Yes!” you moaned as he impaled you from behind; another orgasm quickly approaching unsurprisingly. “Yeah? You wanna see this too right?” he gripped your hips

“Mhm, baby please” you didn’t know what you were saying please for but both of you had an idea that you just didn’t want him to stop. He laughed “Maybe next time I should just take one of those cameras then, could just make our own movie, so every time I’m away you’ll have something. Keep you in check of exactly who this pussy belongs to”

You moaned loudly at his words and clenched around him tightly as you came on him for the third time tonight. “That’s what the fuck I’m talking ‘bout!” he bit his bottom lip; tugging on your hair to lift you up.

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as his pace increased. With every firm thrust he sent you he smashed against your sweet spot that had you trembling “I-I caaan’t”

“You can take it though right? Wanna be big and bad every other time” he mumbled under his breath now rolling his hips into you; his pace changing to slow but deeper

“Too big” you whispered as your thighs shook. He bit his lips admiring your form before planting kisses all over your back “I want you to think of everything I just did to you the next time you touch yourself, you hear me?”

You nodded your head letting out a soft moan “Babeee, I can’t stop cumming, feel so full, feels so fucking good”

He soothed your cries with a gentle rub on your ass to calm you “I got you, just let it out, you been good like you promised”

“I love you, Neteyam! I love you soo much” you sobbed as he picked up his pace again in attempt to make both of you guys cum. His dick bullying its way all throughout your stomach, hitting all of the right places.

“I love you sooo much more, beautiful. Cum all over this dick, you deserve it” he spoke softly tightening his grip on your hair.

You came with a cry of his name, your jaw dropping as pleasure washed over you for the fifth time in a row. Your body slowly giving up on you, but a smile was plastered on your face as you got what you’ve desperately been wanting.

“Shiiit” he whimpered as your juices ran down your body getting his cock wetter than before; the position you were in not helping at all as he looked down before suddenly busting his load inside of you.

You hummed in satisfaction as you rolled your hips back towards his still ones, letting the moment die down peacefully. As exhaustion washed over the both of you, it was time to cuddle up. Neteyam got up to go across the room to clean you up with gentleness and care. You even cleaned him up aswell leading to you guys being extra lovey dovey with one another.

The two of you were inseparable. Now finally settled in your shared home, in bed, peacefully. Your queues now connected together as you guys let your minds speak to each other, letting the other know how much they were loved.

In the end it was all worth it…