neteyuum

[neteyuum]

promises

pairing: neteyam x fem!metkayina reader

warning: mentions of guns/war, mentions of death, vomit if you squint, fix-it (ish?), neteyam lives au

w/c: 1.7k

notes: hey yall new account alert!!! happy to christen this blog with some sweet sweet neteyam fluff. yeah, he lives, cry about it mr cameron i am in your walls. ANYWAY please send any thoughts about avatar my way here! i am very happy to scream about them with you

currently have some more neteyam stuff in the works eheheh hope you enjoy this as i did xx

Your hands haven’t stopped shaking. 

Even after being hauled onto an ilu (by who you can’t be sure), stumbling your way onto the shore of Awa’atlu and falling to your knees, scrubbing the tacky blood from your palms. They tremble as you ball them into fists and retch the acrid taste of gunpowder that clings to your insides onto the sand. 

The waves wash it away. Within seconds, it’s like you were never there at all.

Someone calls your name. The sound rattles in your head and your eyes squeeze shut, willing the ground to stop spinning. A warm hand falls to your shoulder, firm and grounding.

“Hey,” the voice says. It’s Kiri, who comes to kneel beside your wavering form. Your eyes remain shut as she reaches for your hand, just holds it there. When you squeeze with all your might, she tightens her grip just as much. 

She needs this too. 

“He’s going to be okay.” She speaks softly, like the words can be carried off by the ocean breeze to Eywa herself.

You nod, but even with your eyes open, fixated on Kiri’s tired eyes, you see him. You see the pained grimace as he presses his hand to his chest, red spilling out between weakened fingers. You can’t shake the image of him gasping for air on the back of Tsireya’s ilu, body bowing over.

“Come back,” Kiri murmurs, noticing your unfocused eyes. You blink rapidly, falling back into your body and that’s when you notice the chaos of the village. The Metkayina people rush to nurse their wounded and the shouts of horror leaves a sour taste in your mouth, because without Kiri, you are sure your broken cries would be among them.

“Is he—” Your voice cracks.

Kiri looks over her shoulder at the Tsahik’s marui. “Norm and Max are with him. So is your mother. He is in good hands. Just…” She gives you a smile, small but genuine nonetheless, “give them time. ”

She sits with you until your breathing evens out and your fingers relax around hers. She beckons you to stand then, turning back to the village, to the healers spread thin. “Our help is needed. Will you join me?”

Anything to keep you busy; to give them time. 

—

It’s deep into the night when the last of the wounded have been tended to, when you wrap up your last injured warrior and are dismissed, urged to rest. 

The adrenaline has worn off. You’re running on fumes and your body feels like it’s being weighed down by the burlap sacks of sand. Still, your mind gives you no reprieve. With every slash and burn you’ve treated, your mind has reeled with how exactly you could treat a bullet wound. 

You need to see him.

You stumble out of the makeshift healer’s tent, breathing hard. The chaos has calmed, now the village is cocooned in a somber blanket. Candles line the walkways. The air is heavy with mourning.

Your feet carry you to the Tsahik’s marui. Each step amplifies the blood rushing in your ears, and your breathing hitches when a figure slips out from the tent flap. 

Lo’ak’s eyes meet yours and then you’re barrelling towards him. He catches you, stumbling under the force and his breathless chuckle lights a flicker of hope within your chest.

“Where is—”

Lo’ak answers before you can spit out the words that burn your tongue.

“He’s inside, with my mom and dad. He’s okay,” his voice wavers, from the wide grin or the tears welling in his eyes. 

“He’s okay,” you repeat in an exhale and you expect the relief to calm the pounding of your heart but it doesn’t. Now that you know he’s alive, you need to see him alive and breathing with your own eyes. You pull away to do just that, but Lo’ak catches you with a hesitant hand to your forearm.

“I’m sorry,” he says, bowing his head, “it was my fault he got hurt. He could have died and it was my fault. I am so, so sorry.”

Lo’ak looks so horrifically defeated, even with his revelation that has lifted the steel weighing on your shoulders, that you pull him into a hug. Your head shakes fiercely, as if that will dislodge those thoughts from his head for him.

“It was not your fault, Lo’ak,” you whisper, and your heart clenches when you feel his warm tears fall on your shoulder, “the blame lies with the Sky People and them alone. I am grateful for you, Lo’ak, that you were there to help him. I know Neteyam would say the same.”

The boy’s shoulder’s shake in silent sobs and distantly, you think that his hurt needs healing that can’t be brought with your medicines and herbs. 

“In fact, we should just let him say it himself.” You joke. Lo’ak’s mouth twitches into a smile, hands darting to wipe his tears hurriedly. He nudges his fist against your shoulder, every bit the Lo’ak you know.

“I think my sister wants to talk to you,” you offer him an exit, peering over his shoulder at Tsireya lingering at the far end of the walkway. She watches fondly, especially when Lo’ak’s cheeks flush a deep purple and his tail swishes nervously behind him.

He leaves with her and then it’s silent. With a deep breath, you lift the flap and slip into the marui. You nearly walk into Jake’s back in your haste, freezing at the threshold. 

He and Neytiri turn to face you, eyes brightening as you gesture your respect in a greeting.

“I’m sorry for intruding,” you breathe out, fighting the urge to crane your neck to catch even a glimpse of Neteyam, “I just- I needed to see him.”

Neytiri shares a look with Jake, who has an arm protectively around her shoulders. Their smiles are bracketed by tear tracks and you can feel the pure, unbridled happiness, relief radiating from them. 

“Mawey, sweet girl. He is resting.” 

They step to the side, and you finally see him. Your Neteyam. 

His chest, wrapped in layers of white gauze, rises and falls with each breath. He sleeps, peacefully, as if he wasn’t shot in the chest mere hours ago. 

Your hand comes up to your mouth, smothering the cry of relief that escapes against your best efforts to restrain it. You laugh, sheepish eyes darting to his parents who watch with knowing eyes. 

“I think it’s time we all get some rest, hm?” Jake says, tilting his chin towards his sleeping son – the empty spot beside him on the mat. He lifts the tent flap for Neytiri. She steps out with one last glance at her boy, and then at you, before she takes Jake’s hands in hers and the tent is plunged into silence.

You stand there, watching him breathe, for an inordinate amount of time. Then your brain kicks in, wraps around the fact that he is here, alive, right in front of you. You get to tease him, hold him, love him for another day. 

You’re by his side in the blink of an eye, legs folded to your side. Fingers gingerly trace the stripes down his forehead, smoothing over the brow ridge in reverence. His nose twitches and your hand withdraws. 

His eyes flutter open, blinking slowly as he adjusts to the low light of the marui. His gaze falls on you and for a moment, he doesn’t speak. He knows he shouldn’t, by the twitching of your eye. 

“I know what you’re going to say, my love– ” he begins but you don’t give him a fighting chance.

“Your skxawng ass is so lucky you’re injured right now,” you seethe, “what, in Eywa’s name, were you thinking, running into gunfire? Do you think you’re invincible, my mighty warrior?”

Neteyam looks at you with heavy, lidded eyes, probably from whatever Sky People medicine Norm had supplied. He’s got a lazy smile on his lips as he raises his hand to wipe away a tear on your cheek that you never even noticed you shed.

“You are so beautiful when you are angry at me,” he sighs, thumb rubbing over your cheekbone. His smile widens when you lean into his touch, fingers wrapping around his wrist.

“I am glad the Great Mother forgave your stupidity, so I can remind you of it every day from now,” you mutter, pressing a kiss to his palm. He hums.

“Me too.”

He seems content to keep watching you, fighting the clutches of sleep that pull at the edges of his consciousness. No, he’ll stay awake, if only to stare at you for just a moment longer.

He watches as your fingers tighten around his wrist, the other hand coming to rest on the uninjured side of his chest. You hesitate, breath catching in your throat. He waits, patiently, thumb rubbing circles into your skin. 

“I thought…” Your voice is a whisper, hoarse like the words are clawing their way out of your throat, eyes shut. “I thought I lost you.” 

His face falls, though you can’t see it. He imagines what you felt, what he would feel if you were in his place. A heaviness falls over him, and it seeps into his bones, cold and gray. If he ever lost you, he would tear his way to Eywa and bring you back himself, this he knows.

“Open your eyes, my love,” he urges, his voice deep and warm, freeing you from the grasps of a world without him in it. “Come here.”

Neteyam’s arms open for you, and slowly, too carefully, you settle against his good side. He whines when you maintain your distance, mindful of his wound. 

“I will not break, yawne, come closer.”

He tugs you into him, looping his arm around your waist and tucking your head under his chin. He’s glad you can’t see his pained wince. 

He breathes deeply and you know he’s letting you remind yourself of his sturdy presence beneath you.

“I will never leave you,” he says, the words rumbling under your ear. You lean back to meet his eyes. “I swear it.”

Your eyes search his own, only finding love boiling golden. He leans in close, hand cradling your jaw. Warmth runs through your veins as he speaks his promise into your lips.

You know it’s a big promise to keep, one he came close to breaking, but it’s what you need in this moment. For now, it is enough.