#Outpost 22 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gardenladysworld · 2 months ago

Text

Starbound hearts

Status: I'm working on it

Pairings: Neteyam x human!f!reader

Aged up characters!

Genre/Warnings: fluff, slow burn, oblivious characters, light angst, hurt/comfort, pining

Summary: In the breathtaking, untamed beauty of Pandora, two souls from different worlds find themselves drawn together against all odds. Neteyam, the dutiful future olo'eyktan of the Omaticaya clan, is bound by the expectations of his people and the traditions of his ancestors. She, a human scientist with a love for Pandora’s wonders, sees herself as an outsider, unworthy of the connection she craves.

Tags: @fanchonfallen, @nerdylawyerbanditprofessor-blog, @ratchetprime211, @poppyseed1031, @redflashoftheleaf, @nikipuppeteer@eliankm, @quintessences0posts, @minjianhyung, @bkell2929, @erenjaegerwifee, @angelita-uchiha, @wherethefuckiskathmandu, @cutmyeyepurple, @420slvtt, @zimerycuellat

Part 22: To Lost

I'm sorry it took me almost a month to post the new part. Unfortunately, I barely had time to write. I'll try to post the next part within 2 weeks. <3

Part 23: To break

He knew he was overthinking.

Knew he was being that kind of mate again—the one who hovered when you adjusted your mask before you leave the outpost, who always walked one step too close on forest patrol, who checked the wind three times before letting you climb even one vine. You always laughed at him for it.

“Overthinker,” you’d whisper with a smirk, your fingers brushing his arm as you passed. “You’re worse than Norm.”

And maybe you were right.

Maybe today would be like any other. You’d spend one day in the field—just one. Collect some roots, catalog glowing spores, get a few weird cuts from a plant that looked deceptively soft. Then tomorrow… you’d come back. He could bury his face in your neck again, arms locked around you under the morning sun, and feel your laugh rumble against his chest.

He didn’t say it out loud then at the outpost. But he’d wanted to.

Stay.

Just one word.

So why did his gut feel like a knot pulled too tight?

He touched down in the clearing just outside the village, his ikran letting out a low, familiar screech as he dismounted. The breath he exhaled felt heavier than it should’ve. His feet barely hit the ground before a voice drifted from behind him.

“Dad saw you leave at dawn.”

Neteyam turned fast, shoulders tense, already expecting judgment—but it was only Kiri, crouched beside the roots of a flowering tree, her hands working through a bundle of herbs. She didn’t look up, but her brow arched with quiet amusement. “He didn’t say anything, though. Just asked me if you were going hunting.” Her golden eyes lifted. “I didn’t correct him.”

Neteyam exhaled, just a little. “Thanks.”

Kiri hummed, then narrowed her eyes slightly. “She stayed with you?”

He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.

Kiri rolled her eyes with a grin. “You’re so predictable. Honestly, it’s amazing no one else has caught on.”

“Maybe they have, Kiri,” he muttered, lowering his voice. “Maybe they just pretend they haven’t.” He glanced toward the central hearth, where the rest of the village was beginning to stir. “She just... didn’t want to be alone before heading to the pit.”

His sister sobered slightly at that. “The old mining zone?” she said. “I thought they weren’t sending anyone back there.”

“Bridgehead changed their mind.” He rubbed the back of his neck, a tension still coiled beneath his skin. “Only for a day. She left with the others at sunrise.”

Kiri nodded slowly, brushing a loose braid from her face. “And now you’re pacing around like your tail’s on fire.”

“I’m not pacing—”

“You are.”

“I’m thinking.”

“Exactly,” she said, grinning. “You’re thinking. And thinking for you means worrying. About her.” She tilted her head. “You know, sometimes I think Eywa gave you a human girl just to test your patience.”

He barked a soft laugh. “Sometimes I think She gave me to her just to test hers.”

A small giggle cut through the morning air behind them. “You always sneak her away!”

Neteyam stiffened and turned just in time to see Tuk stomping across the grass with a fierce little pout on her face. She jabbed a finger up at him like he’d personally insulted her bedtime story.

“Tuk!” Neteyam half-laughed, half-grunted as his little sister slammed into his legs.

“You sneaked her away again!” she pouted, fists pressed to her hips. “I didn’t get to say goodbye!”

“Shh!” Neteyam and Kiri hissed in unison, both crouching to bring her volume down to something less announcing.

Neteyam pulled her close, brushing back her hair. “Tuk, you cannot shout about that.”

“Why not?” she frowned, lower lip trembling like she might cry. “She’s my favorite! She always braids my hair when I ask. And she said I could help her plant the glowing beans next time at the outpost—!”

“Tuk…” Kiri cut in gently. “You know she’s not supposed to be here at night.”

“But she always sneaks in anyway,” Tuk whispered, conspiratorial, “so why can’t she just stay?”

Neteyam sighed. “Because not everyone understands,” he murmured. “It’s not safe. Not yet.”

Tuk blinked. “But… if you love her, can’t you tell everyone?”

Kiri choked on a laugh, covering it with a cough.

Neteyam flushed, glancing at the trees. “It’s not that simple.”

“But you do love her,” Tuk said, wide-eyed. “I see the way you look at her. Like Dad looks at Mom when he thinks we’re not watching.”

Kiri snorted. “She’s not wrong.”

Neteyam laughed then—low and warm, the tension in his shoulders finally unraveling. He rubbed a hand over his face. “Eywa… give me strength.”

“You’ll need it,” Kiri snorted. “Because when Mom finds out? You’re dead.”

Neteyam only smiled. And for the first time since that morning, the weight in his chest didn’t feel so heavy. Maybe you were right. Maybe he was overthinking it. Maybe you’d be back tomorrow with your arms full of samples, cheeks smudged with dirt, and that stupid glow in your eyes like you’d just found the answer to the universe in a glowing vine.

And when you were—he’d be waiting.

With his arms open.

Just like always.

“You’ll see her again soon, Tuk,” he said, gentler this time. “Maybe even tomorrow.”

Tuk narrowed her eyes, arms crossed. “She better braid my hair first.”

“Deal,” he said with a smile, ruffling her curls. “But only if you don’t tell Mom and Dad that she is with me at night.”

She grinned, all sharp little teeth and sunshine. “I won’t tell. Promise.” And then—just like that—she darted off down the path, chasing her friends with a squeal of laughter.

The forest was quiet again.

Neteyam stood slowly, watching the direction she’d gone, and exhaled. He didn’t realize until now how tight his shoulders had been. Kiri nudged his arm.

“She’s okay,” she said softly. “You’d feel it if she wasn’t.”

“I know,” he murmured. “It’s just… a feeling.”

Kiri tilted her head. “Is it your feeling? Or hers?”

He looked at her. She gave him that look—the one that always made him feel like she knew more than she should. He didn’t answer. Instead, he turned back toward the trees, towards west, eyes scanning the horizon. Tomorrow, he told himself.

Just one more night.

The sun had risen full by now, casting long, amber shadows across the training grounds. The younger warriors-in-training were already gathering in loose clusters, pa’lis tethered nearby, their sleek grey hides shimmering beneath the light.

Neteyam stood at the head of the clearing, arms crossed as he surveyed the group. He let the morning air fill his lungs—wet grass, sweat, the distant scent of roasting rootfruit from the hearth. He could still feel the weight of your absence like a bruise behind his ribs. But work helped. Structure helped.

“All right,” he called, voice steady. “Listen up.”

The warriors fell silent as he approached, straightening instinctively. It showed in the way they looked at him, the way they leaned in when he spoke.

He cleared his throat. “Today’s hunt is different,” he said, voice steady, carrying easily across the courtyard. “No ikrans. We move on pa’li. You need to feel the earth under you again.”

The warriors exchanged quick, eager glances. The hunt needed to be smooth today. No ikrans—only pa’li, as his father had insisted. Grounded hunting. Riding with bow in hand, tracking and striking as their ancestors had before them. He didn’t mind. It built discipline.

He paced a slow circle around the group as he spoke, voice even but sharp with focus.

“We ride south,” he began. “The talioang herds passed through two nights ago. We follow the trail by the river and push them into the shallow basin where the ground is soft.” His eyes skimmed the gathered warriors, young but capable. “We strike from the flanks. No lone riders. Pairs only. And we do not chase the herd once it splits. If you lose your target, you regroup. No hero runs.”

There were some nods. Some sharper grins from the more hot-headed ones. Neteyam crossed his arms, leveling a look at them. “The point is not to show off. The point is control.”

That earned a few guilty shuffles of feet. “They bed down near the water in the heat. We stay mounted—always. We strike from the saddle. Clean shots. We do not separate from our pa’li. If you fall, you are out.”

A ripple of excitement moved through the warriors. Some of them bumped shoulders, grinning like fools. Neteyam almost smiled himself. This was what he was made for. Not diplomacy. Not marriage arrangements. This. “First group will form a half-circle on the northern side,” he continued, drawing a shape in the dirt with the tip of his spear. “Second group will drive them forward. Push them into our trap.”

He crouched lower, marking out the movement with quick, clean strokes. The warriors leaned in, listening sharp and hungry. He could almost forget the rest of the world standing here—almost forget the way his heart twisted whenever he thought of you.

Almost.

He stood, brushing the dirt from his fingers. “Questions?”

A few moments of heavy silence hung over the clearing—then, predictably, the questions started.

“What about you, Neteyam?” one of the younger warriors piped up—a boy named Tanawa. “Will you ride alone?”

The group chuckled lowly. Even Neteyam smiled a little. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “No one rides alone today. I’ll pair up, same as the rest of you.”

That earned a few more nudges and sly looks, some of them glancing toward K’shi, who lingered too neatly at the edge of the gathering, pretending to check her bowstring. Neteyam pointedly ignored them.

Another voice called out—this time from Ärengko, a sturdier boy who already had the heavy shoulders of a future warrior. “Will you take the kill, Neteyam? Or leave it for us?”

A few of the younger ones laughed at that, jostling each other with mock offense. Neteyam’s mouth twitched at the corner. Good. They’re excited. “I’ll only take a kill if you fail,” he said simply, stepping around them again. His eyes gleamed with quiet challenge. “And I expect you not to.”

That lit a fire under them. A few stood a little taller, puffed their chests. Young, yes—but hungry. Determined. He liked that.

Another question—this one laced with a grin from Pakxo, older and always one to stir trouble: “And if you fall from your pa’li, do we leave you in the mud, Neteyam?”

The others chuckled under their breath, looking toward their leader. Neteyam let a rare smirk curl at the edge of his mouth. “If I fall,” he said dryly, “you will laugh at me for the rest of your lives.”

The warriors howled with laughter at that, a rough, warm sound that echoed across the clearing. Neteyam rolled his eyes fondly, about to signal the end of questions—when he caught it.

A flicker of movement at the edge of the clearing. K’shi. Standing half in shadow, half in the golden morning light, arms folded in an artful pose that was definitely meant to look casual but wasn’t. And she was watching him. Only him.

Neteyam set his jaw and looked away sharply, pretending he hadn’t seen it. But of course, the warriors had. He heard the low hiss of whispers passing through the group like wind through tall grass: “She’s watching him again…”

“Maybe she’ll ride with him.”

“Lucky Neteyam, huh?”

He stiffened slightly, keeping his expression carefully neutral as he answered a few last questions about the tracking formations. Pretending he didn’t hear the teasing. Pretending he didn’t feel the weight of those knowing looks pressing at the edge of his patience.

Ignore it. he told himself sharply.

One last hand lifted—Txo’ma, earnest and practical. “Will we be setting traps too, or only the push?”

Neteyam seized the question like a drowning man grabbing a vine. “No traps,” he said briskly. “The basin terrain is too soft. It would slow the pa’li and risk injury. We drive them with pressure alone—noise, speed, formation.”

More nods, more thoughtful looks. Good. They were settling now. Listening. Ready to move.

Neteyam took one last breath, letting the morning air fill his chest and steady him. He didn’t look toward K’shi again. He didn’t have to. He could feel her gaze clinging to him like burrs caught in fur.

And as much as he tried to focus on the hunt ahead, a small, sour thought coiled low in his gut: How many more times will I have to smile and nod while others decide my future for me?

Still. Work first. Always work first. He was about to move on when another boy—Ja'yen, always the smart one—leaned a little closer to his friend and muttered just loud enough for others to hear, “Looks like someone else wants to pair with Neteyam, anyway.”

A few others snickered. He could feel the weight of her stare from across the clearing, like the sun itself had focused into a single burning line aimed straight at his skull.

He gritted his teeth and turned back toward the warriors, pointing. “The trail should be easy to find. Fresh tracks. Broken reeds. Watch the wind.”

But even as he spoke, the snickering picked up behind him—because now, from the corner of his vision, he saw K’shi. Striding closer. Trying very hard to pretend it was casual. Neteyam braced himself.

She approached the group slowly, her steps light and measured, her smile a soft curve as she tucked a loose braid behind her ear. She was tall, confident, hair braided with feathers and bone—obviously skilled, beautiful in the way the clan valued. The kind of mate every parent dreams of for their eldest son. A few of the younger boys elbowed each other. Someone actually whistled—quick and low, but Neteyam caught it anyway.

He wanted to scream.

K’shi stopped just a little too close, her smile tilted coy. “Neteyam,” she said, voice like warm honey, “I heard about the hunt. I would be honored to join your party.” She placed one hand lightly on her hip, tilting her head just so. “You could use more skilled riders, could you not?”

Around them, the warriors pretended not to watch—but he heard the soft chuckles, the low whistles under breath.

"Girls chasing him like ikran on a hunt."

"K’shi too—lucky bastard."

“Next Olo’eyktan won’t even need to choose a mate. They’re lining up for him.”

Neteyam gritted his teeth so hard he thought his fangs might crack. He offered K’shi the barest, tightest smile. “Your skills are known, K’shi. But today’s hunt is for the training of the younger warriors. You are beyond that.”

Flatter her. Make it sound like a favor. Keep it professional. Keep it safe.

But K’shi only smiled wider, leaning even closer, her shoulder almost brushing his. “Still,” she murmured, “I could help... oversee. Assist you. You should not carry the burden alone.” She lowered her voice, her eyes sparkling. “You could... lean on me. If you needed.”

Neteyam bet his whole soul—and his ikran, and the next storm season—that his mother had a hand in this.

He could almost hear Neytiri’s voice now: “K’shi is strong. She is clever. You should speak to her more. Get to know her.”

This was what she wanted. Some nice, respectable Na’vi girl. One from a strong family. One who could give him strong sons. One who wasn’t a human scientist always scribbling in a datapad and laughing at the wrong jokes.

I would rather count every blade of grass from here to the floating mountains, Neteyam thought grimly. Twice.

And still—still—he forced himself to answer gently: “Your offer honors me. But today, I ride only with the trainees.”

“Oh, but I would not distract them,” she said quickly, stepping even closer until the distance between them was barely polite. “I would stay by your side.”

Eywa, take me now.

Her eyes narrowed slightly, just a flicker. But she smiled again, smooth and poised. “Perhaps another time, then.”

He opened his mouth to politely, firmly reject her when—

“Brother!”

Lo’ak crashed through the gathering with all the subtlety of a charging thanator, grinning like he’d just gotten away with something. “Dad’s calling for us,” Lo’ak said casually, jerking his chin over his shoulder. “Wants to see us before we leave. Now.”

It wasn’t a lie. Neteyam knew it wasn’t. But it had never sounded more like a lifeline.

Neteyam almost dropped to his knees right there. Instead, he grabbed his spear, turned to K’shi, and gave a short, stiff nod. “Forgive me. Duty calls.”

He barely waited for her polite nod before he was striding after Lo’ak like the devil himself was on his heels. They left behind the warriors, the gossiping, the stifled laughter.

When they were finally out of earshot, Neteyam let out a breath like he’d been holding it for ten minutes.

“I swear,” he muttered, “I will build you a shrine.”

Lo’ak laughed. “She had the look, bro. Like she was about to start carving your mating beads for you.”

Neteyam groaned, rubbing his hands over his face. “Mother put her up to it. I know it.”

“Oh, definitely.”

“I’d rather wrestle a palulukan naked than sit through another forced conversation like that.”

“You poor thing,” Lo’ak said, dramatically patting his shoulder. “So tragic. All the pretty girls want you.”

“I’m going to throw you into a tree.”

“You’d miss,” Lo’ak grinned.

Neteyam gave him a sideways glare. “You sure Father wants us?”

Lo’ak nodded. “Yeah. But I just figured if I didn’t get you out of there soon, you’d throw yourself into a strumbeest stampede.”

“I considered it.”

Lo’ak grinned. “You’re welcome.”

Neteyam exhaled again, this time with a softer smile. “Seriously. I owe you.”

“Eh,” Lo’ak shrugged. “I just know your girl wouldn’t like it if you got stuck riding off with K’shi into the sunset.”

Neteyam paused, then smirked. “You think she’d be jealous?”

“I think,” Lo’ak said, “she’d braid your ears together while you slept.”

Neteyam laughed—and this time, it reached his chest. Even if just for a moment.

They walked together through the village paths, the packed earth still damp underfoot from the early morning mist. Neteyam and Lo’ak moved quietly now, the energy from earlier bleeding away with each step closer to the kelku.

Their family home loomed ahead—woven high into the trees, broad-leafed and strong, shaped with care by many hands over many years. It was home, and yet Neteyam felt the tightness coil back into his gut the closer he came to it. As if the walls themselves carried expectations heavier than any armor.

Lo’ak shot him a sideways look, reading his tension easily. But—for once—he didn’t tease. Maybe he knew this wasn’t the time. At the entrance, Jake’s voice reached them first.

“—need to move fast. Before the storm.”

Neteyam ducked through the low-hanging vines first, Lo’ak close behind. Their father stood near the center of the room, shoulders tense, arms crossed, that permanent set to his jaw that said something was wrong. Neytiri was beside him, quiet but sharp-eyed, her bow leaning against the wall within easy reach.

“You called for us?” Neteyam said, straightening.

Jake nodded, curt. “We have a situation.”

Neytiri shifted slightly, her tail flicking. She was uneasy too.

Jake nodded, still looking at the map. “Lo’ak said you were just wrapping the briefing for the hunt. Good. You’ll still make it out before eclipse.”

Neteyam stepped closer, his posture shifting into the straight-backed, chin-lifted stance he always used around their father now. “What’s going on?”

Jake tapped a spot on the map. “Here. Northeast. Just beyond the old mining pit.”

Neteyam’s heart sank. Northeast. That was close. Too close.

“You think it’s the RDA?” he asked, already knowing the answer. Already fearing the alternative.

“I don’t think anything yet,” Jake said. “Could be Norm and his people—got turned around, maybe. Maybe got cut off. Maybe some old drone reactivated. We’ve seen stranger things. But I want eyes on it before the eclipse. We’ll scout tonight. On ikrans.”

Neteyam’s jaw clenched. “I don’t think it’s Norm’s team.”

Jake frowned. “And why’s that?”

Neteyam hesitated just a beat too long. Neytiri turned her eyes sharply toward him. “You are certain of where Norm’s team is?”

He nodded once, too smoothly. “I saw them. Days ago. On patrol. The xenobotany team said they’d be collecting data at the old pit on this day.”

“Since when do you forget to report something like that?” Jake asked, the words calm but clipped. “You’ve been thorough lately.”

Neteyam met his father’s gaze evenly. “It slipped. My focus’s been on the warriors and the southern border.”

A long pause stretched between them—Jake still watching him like he was trying to hear what wasn’t being said. Neteyam held the silence, refusing to flinch. Eventually, Jake sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “All right. We’ll know for sure once we’re in the air.”

Lo’ak stepped in, arms folding. “So it’s us three?”

Jake nodded. “We fly in after the hunt. Before the eclipse hits. I want a clean look before the storm rolls in. If it’s nothing, we’re back before mudnight. If it is something—”

“We deal with it,” Neteyam finished.

“Good,” Jake said. “You, me, Lo’ak. Fast and quiet. I don't want a whole war party unless we find something real.”

Lo’ak shifted, looking like he wanted to crack a joke and wisely deciding against it. The air was too heavy for it. Neteyam nodded slowly, feeling the weight of the request. This wasn’t a father asking his sons to tag along. This was the Olo’eyktan giving orders. Orders you didn’t refuse. Not that Neteyam would. Duty came first. Always.

They hadn't really talked in weeks. Not really. Every word between them now was duty, hunting formations, patrol rotations. Nothing else. Not the unspoken pressure about finding a mate. Not the arguments, the ones that simmered under every glance, every stiff nod of dismissal. Neteyam had grown colder to it all these past few months—more stubborn. More silent. It was the only way he could survive the suffocating weight of what they wanted him to be.

Jake must have felt it too. But neither of them said it out loud. Across the room, Neytiri stirred. Her voice was quiet but firm. “I am going as well,” she said firmly.

Jake turned to her, brows lifting. "Neytiri—"

“I go,” she said again, eyes hard and full of something fierce and ancient. “If humans are there—if they come near what we have lost again—I will see it with my own eyes.”

Neteyam knew better than to argue. When his mother decided something, not even Jake could move her. Jake hesitated, then sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Fine. We’ll all go.”

“Alright,” he said. “We leave before eclipse. Just after Neteyam returns from the hunt.”

Neytiri looked satisfied. Lo’ak looked a little too eager. And Neteyam—Neteyam felt like his bones were wrapped in thorns. If you were still out there… If you were caught up in that movement… If your path had taken you anywhere near the northeast—

He didn’t let the thought finish. He just prayed to Eywa that you were still safe. Still tucked deep in the pit, buried in your plants and your data and your weird, wonderful focus.

Because if anything happened to you out there— He didn’t know what he’d do.

“You two prep your gear,” Jake said, already turning back toward the map spread across the floor mat. “This one needs to go clean. No mistakes.”

Neteyam gave a sharp nod and turned, walking out with Lo’ak on his heels. The moment they were outside, his brother leaned in.

“That was smooth,” Lo’ak muttered. “You saw them ‘on patrol,’ huh?”

Neteyam didn’t break stride. “Drop it.”

“I’m just saying,” Lo’ak said with a grin, “you’re getting better at lying. I’m proud of you.”

Neteyam rolled his eyes. “Don’t be.”

Neteyam stepped out into the light once more, the sky now high and bright above the village. The weight of the conversation with his parents still pressed against his shoulders, but he pushed it aside. One thing at a time.

The hunt came first.

As he moved back toward the gathering grounds, he could already see the warriors-in-training assembling again. Pa’li pawed at the ground nearby, bows slung over shoulders. A few of them greeted him again with eager nods, standing straighter as he approached. Neteyam offered a few curt nods back, but didn’t speak yet.

Lo’ak moved beside him silently, then elbowed him with a small, dry smirk. “Heads up.” Neteyam followed his line of sight—and felt his stomach twist.

Neytiri stood near the edge of the training ring, clearly followed them, in low, hushed conversation with none other than K’shi. The young huntress smiled, graceful and poised, and stood a little too close to Neytiri. Her braids gleamed in the light, feathers carefully arranged, and her expression was full of that infuriating mix of humility and expectation.

And then—Neytiri looked up. Right at him. Their eyes locked for a second. Long enough to know it wasn’t coincidence.

Neteyam turned sharply on his heel before either of them could say anything, jaw tight, and mounted his pa’li in one clean motion. “Mount up,” he called to the gathered warriors. “We ride soon.”

The others hurried to obey, the energy rising again as they prepared. Neteyam leaned forward, gently tapping the creature’s neck, trying to focus. Just get through the hunt. But before he could move so much as an inch, a quiet rustle of footsteps came from the side—soft, deliberate. He didn’t need to look.

“I see you are leaving without her,” Neytiri said calmly, her voice close now.

Neteyam exhaled through his nose and looked down at her from his mount. “The hunt is for the trainees. She’s not needed.”

Neytiri tilted her head, unreadable. “She is skilled. They could learn from her.”

“She is not one of them,” he replied, too quickly.

“She is more experienced than half of them.”

“She is not needed,” he said, voice tighter now.

His mother’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You do not trust her to lead?”

“I do not want her here,” he said finally, biting the words before they grew too sharp. “This hunt is about them. I do not want distractions. I do not want…” He hesitated. “Complications.”

Neytiri studied him for a moment, searching for something in his expression. “You are the future Olo’eyktan,” she said gently. “You must learn to lead alongside others. Especially those who may one day share that future.”

Neteyam looked away, gripping the reins a little too tightly. “This is not about leading,” he muttered. “And it’s not about training. It’s about you wanting me to choose.”

Neytiri’s silence said everything he needed to know.

He glanced back at her, his voice low. “You’ve already chosen for me.”

“I have not,” she said, quieter now. “But I know the path that brings strength. That brings peace. That brings balance to the people.”

He shook his head. “She is not my balance.”

Neytiri’s expression didn’t change, but her voice softened. “She would stand beside you. She understands this life. She would not drag you into the sky and away from your people.”

His throat tightened. “And what if I don’t want someone who stands beside me because it’s expected?”

Neytiri’s eyes flickered. “Then you risk standing alone.”

They stood in silence for a breath, the air around them heavy. Warriors shifted in the background, unaware of the quiet storm brewing at the edge of the hunt. Finally, Neteyam leaned forward on his pa’li, his voice steady but cold. “Then I stand alone.”

Neytiri’s expression didn’t waver. “And yet she came. She offered. Do you think she does not notice how you dismiss her?”

“She doesn’t need to be here just to be dismissed,” he muttered.

His mother narrowed her eyes. “You speak as if she is a burden.”

“I speak as if this is a training hunt,” Neteyam bit out. “Not a matchmaking ceremony.”

That caught her. A flash of surprise—and then something colder beneath her gaze. “She is Omatikaya,” Neytiri said, low and clipped. “She is strong. Loyal. Respected. You would be wise to know her better.”

“I know enough,” Neteyam snapped before he could stop himself. They stared at each other in silence for a moment—warrior to warrior, but also mother to son. “I do not need help managing this hunt,” he said, voice dropping to something quiet and final. “And I don’t want her there.”

Neytiri’s jaw tensed. “You would let a girl from the clan feel cast aside, when she offers her strength?”

Neteyam’s hands tightened on the reins. “I would let her know that not every gesture must be accepted just because it’s offered.”

Neytiri stepped back a fraction, the corner of her mouth twitching with disapproval. “You forget your place.”

“No,” Neteyam said, looking forward now, his voice flat. “I remember it. Every day.”

For a moment, Neytiri looked at him like she didn’t quite recognize him—then she turned away, silent as a shadow, and walked back toward the path where K’shi waited. Neteyam didn’t watch her go. “Move out!” he called, clicking his tongue as the pa’li surged forward beneath him. The hunt began. And he didn’t look back.

The hunt stretched long under a darkening sky.

By afternoon, the air had thickened—warm and damp, the kind of sticky humidity that clung to your skin and promised a storm before nightfall. Thunderhead clouds crawled along the horizon, low and brooding, casting a dull, silver-gray sheen across the plains. The sun was still above the trees, but the light had shifted. Softer. Dimmer. A warning.

Neteyam rode at the edge of the formation, his pa’li moving in smooth, quick strides through the tall grass. The riders flanked him, young warriors tense with anticipation, bows gripped in uncertain hands. They had followed the herd south, just as he predicted. The strumbeests had crossed the shallow riverbed and bedded briefly in the softer basin ground before moving again, likely stirred by the charged air.

It was Lo’ak who spotted them first—five thick-necked beasts, moving through a narrow glade beyond the last ridge. The warriors tightened ranks.

They split into pairs just as trained, two by two, fanning into a wide arc to push the herd back toward the clearing. It was a good plan—smart, simple. But the pa’li were nervous. The wind had shifted. Distant thunder cracked once above the trees.

The strumbeests sensed it too. The biggest one, a bull with jagged horns and a wide scar across its flank, reared back suddenly and broke into a charge before the others could react. It crashed through the shallows and made for the open field.

“Hold the formation!” Neteyam shouted.

But one of the younger pairs panicked. Their pa’li reared; their arrows loosed too soon. The beast took one in the shoulder—only a graze—but it was enough to enrage it.

It turned. Snorting. Charging straight at them. Neteyam was already moving. He spurred his mount and galloped low, weaving between riders. His bow was in hand before he even registered the motion.

He nocked an arrow. One breath.

The wind cut across his cheek.

Another breath.

The beast roared. He loosed.

The arrow struck deep, straight into the strumbeest’s chest right into its operculum. It stumbled, let out a terrible sound, then fell hard into the shallow creekbed with a splash of mud and water. Silence followed. Only the soft shuffle of hooves and the slow panting of the pa’li. Neteyam sat still for a moment, shoulders tense, bow still half-raised.

Then he exhaled. The warriors regrouped, their expressions sheepish, winded, wide-eyed. Lo’ak trotted up beside him, letting out a low whistle. “Well,” Lo’ak said, glancing at the fallen beast. “That could’ve gone worse.”

Neteyam didn’t respond right away. He looked back over the young hunters, watching them dismount, some already approaching the strumbeest to prepare the body for transport. When he finally spoke, it was with quiet conviction. “You held the line,” he said, turning toward them. “You didn’t run. You missed—but you tried. That’s what matters today.”

Some of them looked relieved. Others are embarrassed. But all nodded. “First time hunting from pa’li isn’t easy,” Neteyam added, quieter now. “You’ll do better next time.”

That earned him a few smiles. A few straighter backs. The mood lightened, if only a little, as the warriors set to work. The strumbeest was cleaned swiftly, tools pulled from saddlebags, hands practiced if not yet graceful. The smell of blood mixed with the coming rain.

Neteyam let his pa’li walk toward the edge of the clearing, where the creek still ran shallow and clear. He dismounted, stepping into the cool water, its surface rippling softly around his feet. He stood there for a long moment, the sky above beginning to change with the eclipse’s approach. The light was getting stranger now—dimmer, gold-tinged, almost dreamlike.

He looked down. Among the stones and moss, something caught his eye. A shimmer. He crouched, brushing water aside, and plucked the object from the streambed.

A stone—small, smooth, and iridescent. Its surface shimmered in the shifting light, catching greens and blues and soft, smoky purples. Not just light. Color. Like the glowing spores you were always chasing, laughing with that wild-eyed joy.

Neteyam turned it over in his fingers, frowning slightly, and then… a small smile tugged at his mouth. It would make a good pendant. A small one—simple. Nothing elaborate. But something he could shape with his hands. Something he could give you. Something only you would understand.

He imagined your reaction—eyebrows lifting, a laugh just under your breath, fingers brushing it like it was made of starlight. Maybe you'd tease him. Maybe you'd say something clever, something human. But you'd smile.

And he wanted that smile. That look. He slid the stone into the small pouch at his side, glancing skyward. The light had changed again. The first sliver of eclipse was creeping across the sun, shadows sharpening, strange and long.

You said they’d return before the eclipse. The xenobotany team had strict protocols—they had to be back before nightfall, before the storms, before the high-altitude winds made flying unsafe.

You promised. He reached up absently and touched the pouch again, grounding himself. You would be safe. You would come back. He would see you again—soon.

The storm cracked the sky in half.

Rain battered the canopy above, fat and warm, pouring in sheets against the woven walls of the kelku. Wind howled through the upper branches, shaking the structure with each gust, and thunder rolled so loud it made the bones in Neteyam’s chest rattle.

But he sat still.

The flickering firepit cast low light across the room, embers pulsing red and gold, shadows dancing up the curved wood beams. The flames guttered now and then when the wind snuck through a gap in the walls, sending sparks skittering across the floor. Beside him, a knife gleamed dull in the firelight, and scattered bones sat in a tidy pile, pale against the dark pelt beneath him.

In his palm lay the small iridescent stone. He turned it slowly between his fingers, watching how the firelight danced across it—blue, green, violet, a hint of silver. The color shimmered, ever-shifting like the sky at twilight. It reminded him of you. Of the way light clung to your skin when you leaned over your datapad, eyes half-lit with wonder. Of the way your smile always hit faster than your words.

Neteyam let the stone settle against his palm and reached out, grabbing a small curved knife from the floor near the hearth. Beside it, a bundle of thin, pale bones—sanded down, dried clean—lay wrapped in leather cord. Notched, old, but strong. He unwrapped them slowly, eyes flicking to the shadows cast by the lightning flashing through the walls. The fire hissed as it caught one of the storm’s exhalations.

He smiled.

He could already see how it would look—the stone wrapped tight with sinew, flanked by bone beads shaped with simple curves. Clean. Natural. Something for you alone.

You would fidget the moment he gave it to you. Look down at your hands, smile crooked, mutter something about how “you didn’t have to,” even while your fingers curled around it like it was the most precious thing you’d ever touched.

And then you’d wear it. Always. Just like you did with the bracelet he gave you half a year ago. You wore that bracelet like it was a badge. Like it connected you to something deeper than science.

To him.

He began to carve.

The knife moved easily—clean strokes shaving thin curls from the bone, his fingers steady despite the storm. Each small bead he shaped was smooth and purposeful, the rhythm of his work syncing with the fire’s crackle and the beat of rain above. Outside, thunder cracked again, and the whole kelku flashed with white light for a moment—then fell back into flickering amber.

The beads came slowly. One at a time. He lined them up beside the stone, imagining how they’d rest against your collarbone. His expression softened, pride flickering behind his focused eyes.

But as his hands worked, his thoughts wandered. To the flight earlier.

The storm hadn’t broken yet when they left. He’d returned from the hunt—drenched in sweat and the stink of blood but satisfied—and barely had time to drink before he was saddled again, flying into the darkening sky on his ikran beside his family.

Neytiri. Jake. Lo’ak. And him. The four of them had flown north as the first eclipse shadows stretched over the trees, their ikrans soaring low, wings skimming the high canopy. The forest grew stranger in the eclipse light—half-night, half-day, colors muted to bronze and gray, as if Eywa herself were holding her breath.

They reached the clearing in silence. And there it was. The unmistakable hulking mass of a dragon assault ship, half-buried in the tall grass. Its hull was scorched in places, but intact. Nearby, a Scorpion—parked for safety, rotors folded back. There were crates nearby. Scorch marks in the dirt. Trampled underbrush. All the signs of a deployment zone.

But no people. No movement. No sound. It was like they had landed… and vanished.

Neytiri had crouched at the edge of their perch, her entire body tense. She stared down at the ship with a look Neteyam had only seen once before.. Her voice, when she finally spoke, had been sharp as obsidian. “They are back. And they are close.”

Lo’ak hadn’t said anything. Neither had Jake. Not right away. The silence stretched, the only sound the distant churn of the approaching wind. Neteyam could still feel it—the pressure, the burn of it behind his ribs. They didn’t see a single human. But there had been movement recently. The soil told that story. So did the discarded wrappers, the markings on the crates. Tools and sealed gear. The kind no recon team left behind.

Neytiri had wanted to destroy the ships. Set fire to the clearing and let Eywa decide what remained. But Jake had held her back. “We don’t know why they’re here yet,” he’d said. “We don’t make the first move unless we have to.”

Neteyam hadn’t disagreed. But as he glanced at the empty ship, something inside him had turned cold.

Why now? Why so close?

And the look she gave those ships… Neteyam knew it by heart. Grief, buried under rage. She’d lost too much to sky people. She didn’t trust coincidence. And neither did he.

They’d left soon after, under strict silence, flying back into winds that threatened to tear them from the sky. Jake said he’d speak to Norm in the following, see if there were signs anyone had passed word of this movement. But Neteyam had his doubts.

Did Norm know? Did you?

He knew you didn’t lie well. If you'd known something this big, this dangerous, you would’ve told him. Wouldn’t you?

He carved another bead. This one thinner. Smoother.

His fingers moved faster now, catching the light as the beads began to stack beside him—each one small, perfect, shaped to slide on a leather cord. He had no design yet, not really. Just a feeling. Something that reminded him of the moments he treasured most: your hands brushing his as you passed tools, the way your eyes lit up under bioluminescence, the sound of your breath when you laughed in the quietest part of the forest.

Neteyam clenched his jaw and set down the bone shard he’d been carving. He picked up the iridescent stone again, turning it over in the firelight. Lightning flashed through the kelku, and for a breath, your face filled his mind—smiling, lit from below by a bioluminescent spore cluster, skin smudged with dirt and joy.

You were already back. Safe at the outpost. Behind its shields. Surrounded by Norm, Max, and the others. You were smart. Careful. And you never broke your word.

But the world was different now. He glanced toward the woven wall, where water slipped down the fibers. The sound of rain had changed—harsher now. As if the storm had teeth. The forest wasn’t just dangerous now. It was hunted.

And if the sky demons were moving again—if this was the start of something—he’d do anything to keep you from it. He set the stone carefully between the beads and reached for the knife again. The next bead would be smaller. Closer to the stone. Delicate, but strong.

Just like you.

The storm outside howled louder. But in the warmth of the kelku, surrounded by firelight and bone and purpose, Neteyam carved. And the gift he shaped was not just a pendant.

It was a promise. He’d see you again. And when he did—you’d wear this against your skin. And you’d smile.

It was bright. Too bright. The forest shimmered with golden sunlight pouring down through the thick canopy. Every leaf, every vine, every stone pulsed with life. The air was fresh and warm, the scents of flowers and damp earth so vivid he could almost taste them.

Neteyam moved through the trees with growing urgency, heart hammering against his ribs. He called out, but the sound of his voice was swallowed by the forest. Everywhere he looked, there was color—bright birds flickering through the trees, insects buzzing in lazy circles, the river ahead gleaming like a ribbon of light.

But you weren’t there.

He searched. He searched until the ground blurred under his feet and his breath came sharp and shallow. He checked the vines you liked to climb. The caves you liked to explore. The meadows you would lie down in just to watch the suns drift by overhead.

Nothing. You were nowhere. Panic gnawed at him. That cold, sharp panic he rarely let himself feel. Not in battle. Not in hunts. But now.

He was losing you. He staggered through another wall of green, nearly slipping in the wet moss—and stopped. There. By the creek.

Colourful fishes flitted around your fingers, nibbling curiously. You wiggled your fingers at them with a soft, delighted laugh, your hair falling in messy strands across your face. The sunlight kissed your skin, and for a moment, you seemed almost made of it.

Relief hit Neteyam so hard he nearly dropped to his knees. He exhaled, a raw, broken sound he barely recognized as his own, and started toward you. Of course you had wandered off. Of course you were chasing something curious and beautiful. It was who you were. And how could he ever stay mad at you for it?

He walked closer, the ground cool beneath his feet, his voice soft and cracking at the edges. “There you are,” he said.

You looked up at him, your face splitting into a huge, radiant grin. Your eyes sparkled in the sunlight—alive, mischievous, full of everything he loved and everything that scared him to death.

Without a word, you pushed yourself upright and reached toward him with wet, dripping hands. Before he could react he was already leaning down to your level, your palms cupped his face—cold, slippery from the water—and he froze, wide-eyed. Your grin widened. “You found me,” you said, like it was the most obvious, wonderful thing in the world.

Neteyam swallowed, the tension bleeding out of his shoulders all at once. “I always will,” he said, his voice low, almost a whisper.

You laughed again, bright and easy, and gently dragged your thumbs across his cheeks, leaving damp streaks behind. “You were worried,” you teased, your eyes narrowing playfully.

He huffed a breath, something between a laugh and a groan. His hands lifted to cover yours, pressing your palms firmer against his face, grounding himself in the feel of you. “You don’t listen,” he muttered, his forehead brushing against yours as he closed his eyes. “You never listen.”

You only laughed again, tilting your face up so your mask bumped his head. “That’s why you love me.”

And Eywa help him, it was true. Neteyam exhaled against the glass panel, the warmth of your hands cradling his face still grounding him—when something shifted. He blinked.

And the world was no longer bathed in gold.

The sunlight vanished, swallowed by a heavy, oppressive darkness. A cold rain lashed against his skin, the roar of the storm all around him. The trees groaned under the weight of the wind, their branches thrashing like wounded creatures.

Neteyam realized he was crouched on a high branch, slick with rain, the bark beneath his hands cold and wet.

For a moment, disoriented, he looked around—searching, heart pounding against his ribs. Then he saw you. You were there, only a few feet away, clinging to the branch, your body trembling with cold and fear. Your hair, soaked and tangled, stuck to your mask and neck. Your clothes clung to your small frame, and you pressed yourself low against the bark as though trying to disappear into it.

Before he could call out, before he could even breathe your name, you turned your head sharply toward him, eyes wide with terror. You pressed your small fingers quickly to his lips, shaking your head with urgent ferocity.

Be quiet.

He froze instantly, obeying without question. Your lips trembled as you leaned in, close enough that he could just hear your whisper over the rain: “They’re here,” you breathed. “Viperwolves.”

Neteyam’s blood turned to ice.

Your eyes darted downward—and he followed your gaze. Far below, weaving through the underbrush like dark, restless shadows, the viperwolves prowled. Their sleek forms slithered through the misty forest floor, low to the ground, muscles rippling under soaked fur. Snarling. Sniffing the air.

Hunting.

Hunting you.

You pressed closer to him, your body rigid with fear. He could feel the way you shivered, not just from the cold—but from terror. Real, paralyzing fear. And Eywa, he had never seen you like this. Not you. Not the girl who laughed at storms and climbed higher than any scientist had any right to. Not the girl who would poke at a thanator’s pawprint just to marvel at how big it was.

He felt something hot coil inside him—a fierce, protective anger. His hand moved automatically, sliding down across his chest, fingers brushing the hilt of the knife strapped there. His instincts roared awake.

Protect. Shield. Fight if you must.

He leaned in closer, so their shoulders touched, so you could hear him even through the rain. His hand brushed lightly over your arm, steadying, grounding. “Hey,” he whispered, voice low and steady. “Breathe. You’re safe.”

You shook your head slightly, your wet hair clinging to your cheeks. “They’re hunting me. They followed me. I ran, but—”

“You did good,” he cut in gently. His hand pressed against the small of your back now, warm despite the rain. “You climbed. You got out of reach. That’s smart.” You blinked up at him. He could see the doubt, the terror clawing at you. He shook his head firmly. “I’m here now,” he said. “They won’t touch you. I swear.”

Slowly, very slowly, he moved his hand up and cupped the side of your head, shielding you from the worst of the rain, shielding you from the fear. Your forehead leaned instinctively into his palm, seeking the warmth and safety. “I will protect you, yawne,” he murmured. “Always.”

Another snarl echoed below—but Neteyam didn’t flinch. His whole focus narrowed to you—to the way you trembled under his hand, to the way your heart raced against his side. “We’ll wait,” he whispered. “Let the storm cover us. Then I’ll get you out. You trust me, yes?”

Your lower lip trembled, but you nodded. Pressed your forehead against his shoulder. Neteyam’s arms tightened around you instinctively. Nothing would take you from him. Not rain. Not fear. Not viperwolves. He closed his eyes, feeling your small form against him, the storm raging around them—but in the hollow space between you, there was something stronger. Something steady.

And he held onto that as he planned the way down—already thinking of how to move, how to shield you, how to make sure, no matter what, you would make it out safe. You were his to protect. And he would never let you fall.

Neteyam woke with a sharp breath, like he had surfaced from deep water.

For a moment, he just sat there in the dim morning light, blinking blearily at the woven ceiling of the kelku, his heart still pounding dully in his chest. The storm had passed sometime during the night; he could hear the steady drip-drip of rainwater sliding from the leaves outside, the soft hum of the waking village in the distance.

He dragged a hand over his face, his palm rough against the skin still damp with sweat. The dream still clung to him—sticky, heavy, colder than anything he'd ever dreamt of you before.

Normally, dreams of you were warm, sweet things. Quiet laughter. Whispered words. The soft brush of your fingertips against his chest. Sometimes, dreams he woke from with his cheeks burning, your smile flashing in his mind like a secret only he was allowed to carry.

But this... This had been different. Dark. Terrifying in a way that gnawed at his gut even now. He shook his head, trying to dislodge the tight knot of unease coiled low in his belly. It was just a dream. Nothing more. You were safe. You were fine.

Probably hadn’t slept all night, though, he thought with a small, dry smirk. He could practically picture you now: bouncing from workstation to workstation at the outpost, hair a mess, goggles pushed up onto your forehead, muttering rapid-fire notes into your recorder as you tested the new spore samples the xenobotany team had pulled from the pit.

You lived for discovery. You never slowed down. And Eywa, he loved you for it. Even if you wore yourself to the bone sometimes. You never could resist new samples. He chuckled under his breath. His relentless, unstoppable little human.

He sat up slowly on the edge of his pelt, rolling his shoulders to shake off the lingering tension. Already, his thoughts were drifting to you—how your face would light up when you explained some new discovery, how your hands would wave wildly as you tried to describe some chemical reaction that made absolutely no sense to him but sounded beautiful all the same because it was you saying it.

He missed you. Even though he had seen you the morning before. Even though it hadn't even been a full day. He missed you enough that a new idea slipped into his mind, quiet but insistent. I should see her tonight.

The thought settled there like a promise. He would find an excuse to slip away after the evening duties. Maybe just watch you work and listen to your ramble yourself into laughter. Anything. He just needed to see you. To remind himself you were real and alive and safe.

Just as Neteyam started to push himself up from his pelt, thinking about slipping away quietly to start his day before anyone could catch him, a soft sound made him stiffen — the faint swish of vines parting.

He looked up sharply.

At the entrance to his kelku stood Neytiri, her silhouette outlined in the pale morning light. Her expression was calm. Too calm. Neteyam immediately felt the tension return, settling deep in his spine like a coil ready to snap.

“Ma’itan,” Neytiri said, stepping lightly into the room. It wasn’t a mother checking on her son. It was the Olo’eyktan’s mate arriving with duty. Expectation.

He said nothing. He only straightened where he sat, waiting.

"You will go with Sa’nari today," Neytiri said without ceremony. No greeting. No kindness to soften the blow. Just the words, heavy as stones.

Sa’nari. Another one of the “chosen” girls. A skilled healer, yes. Gentle, wise, kind — all the things a good tsahìk might look for in the future mate of an Olo’eyktan. Exactly the kind of girl his mother and grandmother would favor. Exactly the kind of girl that wasn't you.

Neteyam blinked slowly at her, forcing himself to stay still when every part of him wanted to groan, flop backward into his pelt, and will himself into nonexistence. Eywa help him, he had barely survived yesterday being paraded around like a prize calf for K’shi—and now this?

He didn’t move, didn’t speak, just stared at her, jaw clenching tighter. Neytiri stepped inside a little, her expression softening just barely. "Sa’nari is skilled," she said, as if that explained everything. "A healer. Gentle, but strong. Mo'at sent her to gather herbs today by the western basin. The creek." Her eyes met his pointedly. "You will go with her." A pause. "Guard her. Learn from her. Know her."

Neteyam’s fists curled against his thighs. He knew better than to speak quickly—but the words came out anyway, sharper than he meant. "I don’t want to go."

Neteyam stared at his mother, a muscle ticking in his jaw. But Neytiri’s gaze pinned him where he sat. Calm. Expectant. Unyielding. She wasn’t asking. She stepped closer, folding her hands neatly. “She needs protection.” Her tone shifted slightly, almost too casual. “And... time to be known. To you.”

Neteyam let his head fall back slightly, eyes staring up at the ceiling. Of course. Of course it wasn’t just about guarding. It was another push. Another quiet pressure disguised as duty. He fought the heavy sigh rising in his chest. “I have patrols,” he said tightly. “Lo’ak can go with her.”

“Lo’ak is needed elsewhere,” Neytiri said swiftly. “You are free this afternoon.”

He gave her a look — flat and unamused. “Mother—”

She lifted her hand in a quiet but firm motion. “You already hurt K’shi’s feelings yesterday,” Neytiri said, her voice sharper now. “You will not behave like a reckless boy again. You are a grown man, Neteyam. Start acting like one.”

The words hit harder than they should have. Maybe because they were the same ones Jake always used too, whenever he wanted to twist the knife deeper. Grown man. But still being told who to speak with. Who to walk with. Who to consider worthy.

Neytiri turned away before he could say anything more, already moving toward the kelku’s entrance with the quiet, predatory grace that she carried everywhere. “This is not about what you want,” she said over her shoulder, soft but cutting. “It is about what you owe to your people.”

Neteyam looked away, jaw clenching, fighting the urge to argue—to shout. To say that the only hands he wanted to hold were already too small, too human, too forbidden. That the only future he could picture smelled like earth and lab-ink and laughter.

Instead, he said nothing. He just stared at the floor until Neytiri sighed quietly. "You will go," she said, final and heavy.

Before she slipped through the hanging vines, Neytiri’s voice floated back to him, quieter now, but still unrelenting. “She leaves within the hour. Meet her by the eastern path.”

And then she was gone. The kelku was silent again, except for the steady drip of water from the leaves outside. Neteyam sat there, unmoving, for a long moment. Eywa, he wanted to scream. Instead, he dragged both hands down his face, groaning low into his palms. Another wasted day. Another charade. Another moment spent pretending he didn’t already know where his heart belonged.

And it wasn't with Sa’nari. It was with the small, stubborn, relentless human who was probably covered in soil and glowing spores at that very moment, laughing to herself in a lab somewhere far too close to danger. Neteyam dropped his hands into his lap, exhaling hard.

Fine. He would go. He would guard Sa’nari. He would play the good son. The good warrior. The good heir. And then, when it was done, when he could finally slip away into the cover of night—he would find you.

He would find you, and maybe—just maybe—he could finally breathe again.

The scent of crushed herbs and damp moss filled Mo’at’s tent, rich and grounding. Bundles of dried roots hung from the ceiling, swaying gently with the morning breeze, their shadows dancing across the floor. The old tsahìk sat near the hearth, her fingers busy weaving a new binding cord from thin, water-soaked reeds. Her movements were slow, methodical—yet even in her stillness, her presence commanded the air like a quiet storm.

Neteyam stood at the edge of the space, tense and unblinking. “I don’t understand,” he said, his voice low but sharp. “You know.”

Mo’at didn’t look up, but the faintest twitch at the corner of her mouth told him she’d been expecting this conversation. “I know many things, ma’itan,” she said evenly.

“You know about her.” He stepped forward, not angry—yet—but tight with confusion. With frustration. “You know what she means to me. You’ve helped us meet here. You said her learning from you gave her a reason to stay in the village at night.” He gestured around the tent, to the walls where his human had sat cross-legged for hours beside the old tsahìk, soaking up knowledge like the forest soaked rain. “You said—”

“I said it made sense,” Mo’at interrupted gently. “Not that it would last forever.”

Neteyam’s mouth opened, then closed. His hands moved unconsciously to the stone in his fingers—the iridescent one from the creek. It had been resting in his palm without him realizing since he left his kelku, shifting slowly between his thumb and forefinger as if it had grown attached to his skin.

Mo’at’s eyes followed the movement, her gaze landing on the stone for only a second before she resumed her weaving. “She will not be harmed,” she said softly, as if sensing the darker thread beneath his words. “Not by me. Not by this.” Then her eyes lifted again, sharper now. “But your mother is not so patient. And she sees your future clearly, as I once did with hers.”

“That’s the problem,” Neteyam muttered, jaw clenched. “She sees a future. Not my future.”

Mo’at set the half-finished cord aside and leaned back slightly, folding her hands in her lap. “You are not wrong to feel it,” she said. “But you are wrong to think you can ignore it. Your mother… does not yet understand how deep your bond runs.” Her eyes met his squarely. “But she fears losing you. To a path she does not know.”

Neteyam looked down again, his grip tightening slightly on the stone. His chest felt too small. The air too thick. “So I just go?” he said. “Pretend? Smile? Spend the day walking beside someone I don’t want, when the only person I—”

“—is probably halfway through cataloguing a leaf sample and humming to herself,” Mo’at said mildly, a knowing glint in her eyes.

Neteyam blinked. He couldn’t help it. His lips twitched. Just barely.

Mo’at smiled. “Then make this journey useful,” she said, gesturing toward his hand. “You will walk by the creek, yes? The vines there hang strong. Good for bindings.” She nodded toward the stone. “That one would suit a thread of river-hanger vine. Smooth. Durable. Fitting for something meant to last.”

Neteyam stared down at the little stone in his palm, light dancing across its surface in soft hues of purple and blue.

Mo’at leaned forward slightly, voice dropping low, wise and wicked all at once. “Gather what you need. Pretend for your mother’s sake. But weave your own path, ma’itan. Quietly, if you must.” She smiled, eyes gleaming. “Even a Tsahìk cannot bind the heart.” Mo’at's voice was gentler now, like wind brushing over leaves.

“You do not have to give them your heart, ma’itan. But you do have to give them your presence. For now.”

He swallowed thickly. “And after?”

Mo’at only smiled again. “After? You will return to the outpost. And someone very small and very stubborn will probably throw herself at you the moment you step through the door.”

Neteyam barked a quiet laugh, low in his throat.

Mo’at’s smile turned sly. “And you may give her that stone. And perhaps she will kiss you. And perhaps your mother will still be angry, but perhaps… that kiss will be enough for a little while longer.”

He closed his fingers around the stone, warm now from his touch. “I hate this.”

“No,” Mo’at said, rising to her feet slowly. “You just love. And love is always heavier than duty.”

Neteyam stood silent for a moment longer, the stone clutched in his palm like an anchor. Then, reluctantly, he nodded once and turned to go. Outside, the path toward Sa’nari waited. But so did the creek. So did the vines. And later—so did you.

The forest was quiet in that damp, post-storm way—leaves heavy with lingering droplets, the underbrush glistening under the muted morning sun. Birds chirped high in the canopy, but otherwise, the air felt still. Waiting.

Neteyam walked behind Sa’nari in near silence, his steps measured, his bow strapped loosely across his back. The light played across her shoulders as she moved, her braid trailing down the center of her back, her satchel bouncing softly against her hip with each step.

She was speaking softly to herself as they went, fingers brushing certain plants, occasionally pausing to tug a leaf or run her thumb across a petal. Her hands were deft—gentle but sure. Trained. She didn’t fumble or hesitate. Every movement had purpose.

She had always been like that, even as a child. Smart. Precise. Focused. She finally broke the silence after they passed a patch of sun-drenched ferns. Her voice was soft, careful. “You do not have to look so tense, Neteyam. I will not bite.”

He huffed a small breath through his nose—not quite a laugh. “Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t sleep well.”

Sa’nari nodded slowly. “Storm?”

“Something like that,” he said, eyes flicking ahead toward the path, unwilling to give more.

They walked for a while longer in quiet, the creek now murmuring somewhere ahead, just past a dip in the terrain. Birds rustled through the canopy. The wind carried the scent of water. “I heard the hunt was a success,” Sa’nari said lightly. “Even if some of the younger ones panicked.”

He allowed a small smile. “They’ll learn. They did well enough.”

She glanced at him sidelong, her eyes sharp and warm all at once. “You sound like your father when you say that.”

Neteyam grimaced slightly. “Let’s hope not too much.”

That made her laugh softly. He watched her from the corner of his eye as she walked—a quiet confidence in her, not unlike Kiri’s, though less wild, more restrained. Everything about her was composed. She reached out to pluck a sprig of redroot from the moss, tucking it neatly into her pouch. “I’ve gathered here many times,” she said, “but it’s nice to have someone with me this time.”

Neteyam offered a noncommittal sound.

“Redroot, five clusters,” she murmured now, mostly to herself. “Three more of the silvercap. And I’ll need river moss if it’s still holding—” She paused, then glanced back at him, eyes shy but bright. “You can tell your mother I am not wasting the day,” she said with a faint, sheepish smile. “Mo’at will have more than enough herbs when we return.”

Neteyam gave a quiet huff, not quite a laugh. “She doesn’t think you’d waste it.”

Sa’nari smiled again and turned back toward the creek. They kept walking for a while, the sunlight filtering through in soft shafts, their shadows stretching long. Eventually, she slowed as they reached the low western basin, where vines hung down in heavy coils from the upper branches and the water ran cool and shallow. Dragonflies buzzed lazily along the surface, their wings catching in the light.

Sa’nari knelt beside a patch of flowering reedgrass and began to work, carefully clipping stems and tucking them into her pouch.

Neteyam stood nearby, gaze drifting to the vines overhead. River-hanger. Just as Mo’at said. His fingers itched slightly.

But then Sa’nari spoke again, her voice quiet. “You’ve changed, Neteyam.”

He looked at her slowly. “How?”

“You’re quieter now,” she said without turning. “Heavier.”

He didn’t answer. Not immediately. It was the kind of observation only someone who’d known him a long time could make. And Sa’nari had. She’d been there since they were children—never loud, never pushy. Just always there. A quiet presence in the village. The girl who knew how to stop a bleeding wound faster than most warriors could draw a bow.

She gathered a bundle of moss into her palm and stood, brushing her fingers together. “Your mother wants what’s best for you,” she said gently. “We all do.”

He turned to look at her fully then. And she met his eyes. Sa’nari glanced at him again. This time, her eyes lingered. He knew that look. Longing. Quiet, hopeful longing.

He had seen it a hundred times before, in so many girls’ eyes. He’d caught them watching him across the hearth fires, smiling too brightly during training, lingering too long during blessings. At first, he hadn’t known what to do with it. Now… now he just felt tired.

Because he knew the truth. Knew how cruel it was. Sa’nari would make a wonderful mate. Any warrior would be proud to walk beside her. But she would never have his heart.

Because someone else already held it. And Sa’nari didn’t even know she’d never had a chance. “I’m glad to have your company,” she said after a moment, quieter now. “Truly.”

He swallowed, the weight of her sincerity pressing heavily in his chest. “You’re easy to walk with,” he said honestly. “That’s a gift.” Her smile flickered, then steadied.

They reached the creek shortly after, the water trickling over smooth stones, reeds swaying gently at the banks. Sa’nari moved to the edge without hesitation, beginning her work—snipping, sorting, murmuring the names of each plant she gathered.

Neteyam stepped away slightly, eyes scanning the trees, but really… he was searching the vines. His hand slipped to his pouch. The stone waited there, quiet and warm.

He would find the right one. A strong, supple strand of river-hanger vine. Enough to cradle the stone, to let it rest where it belonged—over your heart. He moved silently along the edge of the creek, scanning, gathering, his fingers brushing over the vines one by one. And as he worked, the ache in his chest softened slightly.

Because he wasn’t just here to follow orders. He was weaving something of his own.

Neteyam knelt some paces away, his fingers brushing over the heavy strands of river-hanger vine dangling from the branches. He tugged gently on a few, testing their strength, his mind already moving through the steps. The stone in his pouch would hang best from something soft and braided. He could reinforce the base with fine leather, maybe add some carved bone or seed beads to make it more personal. She liked when things told stories. Maybe he’d carve a small pa’li figure, or a little sprig of that glowing fern she’d once fallen in love with. His lips twitched faintly at the thought.

“You’re making something,” Sa’nari said suddenly, her voice calm but perceptive.

Neteyam froze just briefly, then resumed his work. “Maybe,” he said.

She tilted her head slightly. “Something for someone?”

He didn’t answer right away. Just gave a soft grunt that could’ve meant anything. She smiled faintly to herself and stood, brushing the dirt from her knees and moving toward another patch of herbs. “Can I ask you something?”

Neteyam glanced up, wary but open. “You can.”

Sa’nari’s fingers hovered over a cluster of blossom-fronds before she spoke. “Do you ever wish… someone else could choose for you?” Her voice was soft. Unassuming. But the words carried weight.

Neteyam straightened slowly, letting the vine fall from his fingers. “No,” he said. “I think… I’ve always known what I want.”

Her back remained to him, but he could see the stillness in her spine. “That’s rare.”

He considered her carefully, then asked, “And you? Did you ever love someone? Or did you just wait… for your parents to choose for you?”

She turned then, her eyes thoughtful and open. “I used to think I would wait,” she said. “Until someone was chosen for me. It seemed easier. Simpler. But…” She gave a small shrug. “I learned that simple things don’t always feel right.”

Neteyam looked away, down at the vines, at the way they curled like veins along the branch. “You’re kind,” he said after a moment. “Gentle. If you wanted to be chosen… you would be.”

Sa’nari smiled faintly. “Maybe I was.” Her gaze was steady. Not pressing. Not accusing. Just honest. “But sometimes I think we are all just trying to be someone our families can be proud of. Even if it means hurting ourselves a little.”

The words settled in him with an uncomfortable truth. Sa’nari knelt again to gather a flowering stalk, but her voice carried across the hush between them. “I’ve seen the way you walk with humans. How you speak with them. The way they trust you.”

Neteyam blinked, glancing back toward her.

“I think your father must be proud,” she continued, “that you never turned bitter. That you never resented those who were worthy of our respect—even if they shared blood with those who hurt us.”

Neteyam’s fingers curled unconsciously around the vines in his hand. He thought of you.

Of how you always apologized for things you never did. Of how you looked at Pandora like it was a sacred book, not a prize. Of how your hands trembled the first time you touched a glowing tree and whispered, “I don’t want to break anything.”

You were human. But you had never been a sky demon to him. You were his little star. And stars, he thought, don’t destroy. They guide. “They’re not all the same,” he murmured finally, voice low. “She never hurt anything,” he murmured under his breath, not even realizing he said it aloud.

Sa’nari tilted her head slightly, but said nothing. Just listened. After a while, she smiled. Soft. Knowing. “You will be a wise leader, Neteyam,” she said. “When your time comes.” He looked at her, caught off guard. “You carry many things quietly,” she added. “And you do not speak hate, even when your heart is torn.” After a moment, she said, “Your father must be proud of you.”

Neteyam huffed a breath, not quite agreeing, but not willing to argue.

The path back to the village was quieter than the one they had taken out.

The basket slung over Neteyam’s shoulder was heavier than it looked—overflowing with herbs, moss, and flowering stalks, the day’s careful work bundled tight. Sa’nari walked a few steps ahead, her pace light despite the long hours, her head tilted slightly as if still listening to the songs of the forest.

Neteyam didn’t mind the silence. It wasn’t awkward, just… still. Like the earth had settled again after the storm. As they passed under the heavier canopy near the village’s outskirts, he felt it. A gaze. Heavy, focused. He didn’t need to look to know who it was. Still, he glanced once—and immediately regretted it.

Neytiri stood just beyond the main clearing, near the tsahìk’s tent. Her posture was proud, her arms folded loosely over her chest, her head tilted in that quiet, pleased way that said she was already imagining the future—one where he and Sa’nari stood together, mated under the eyes of Eywa, strong leaders for the Omatikaya.

Neteyam turned his head away sharply, the muscles in his jaw tightening. He didn’t want to see that look. Not when it wasn’t meant for the life he wanted. They reached the slope where the healers’ supplies were sorted, and Sa’nari slowed, finally turning to face him. She reached out carefully, taking the heavy basket from him with a small, grateful nod. “Thank you,” she said softly. “For today.”

Neteyam managed a small, genuine smile. “You didn’t really need guarding.”

“No,” she agreed easily, adjusting the basket against her hip. “But it was still... better. Having someone there.”

He inclined his head slightly. At least, he thought privately, she hadn’t been as pushy as K’shi. Sa’nari had let the day breathe. Let the spaces between words stretch comfortably. That counted for something. He turned to go, but her next words stopped him.

“I’m grateful you walked with me,” she said, her voice lower now, almost hesitant. “Even though your heart is already... elsewhere.”

Neteyam froze, blinking once. He almost did a double take—almost stumbled.

He turned slowly to look at her. Sa’nari only smiled up at him, shy but calm. No accusation. No anger. Just a quiet understanding. “You’re not as subtle as you think you are, Neteyam,” she said with a soft chuckle, her eyes bright with kindness. “Whoever she is… she must be very special.”

He swallowed thickly, unsure what to say. His hand twitched at his side, almost reaching instinctively for the small stone still tucked safely in his pouch.

Sa’nari’s smile softened further, and she stepped past him, the basket swinging gently at her side. “I won’t tell anyone,” she said lightly over her shoulder. “It’s not my story to tell.”

Neteyam watched her go for a moment—watched the way she disappeared into the crowd gathering near the healers’ tents—before finally exhaling.

The knot in his chest loosened just a fraction. She understood. More than he had given her credit for.

And even though the path laid out for him still felt impossibly narrow, impossibly sharp, at least there was someone else who knew he was already walking another one. Quietly. Stubbornly. Truly.

For you. Always for you.

Neteyam turned away from the gathering crowd, slipping quietly back toward the edges of the village, where the trees grew thick and the sky opened wide.

Tonight, he would find you. Tonight, he would slip through the outpost’s barriers, find the light in your window. And maybe—maybe—he could hold you again and remember that, no matter what the world tried to make of him, he was still yours. Yours first.

Yours always.

Later that night, after the suns dipped low beyond the treeline and the village fires began to burn soft and golden, Neteyam found Lo’ak lingering near the kelku.

He moved quickly, keeping his voice low. "If anyone asks," he said, tightening the strap on his bow, "tell them I'm on patrol."

Lo’ak turned, catching the tone immediately. “To her?” he asked, a sly grin tugging at his mouth.

Neteyam gave him a sidelong glance but didn’t deny it. “If anyone asks, I’m on patrol.”

Lo’ak rolled his eyes, but there was understanding in them. “They always ask. Especially Mom.”

“Then lie better,” Neteyam muttered.

Lo’ak sighed, raising his hands. “Fine. You’re deep in the southern trail. Dangerous patrol. Very heroic.” Lo’ak smirked, flicking a pebble into the ring. “You’re getting worse at sneaking out, you know.”

Neteyam just raised a brow. “You gonna rat me out?”

“Please. I’ll say you were wrestling a palulukan bare-handed if it helps,” Lo’ak grinned. “Tell her I said hi. And not to throw you out if you fall asleep mid-sentence again.”

Neteyam rolled his eyes but gave him a quiet, grateful nod. “Irayo.”

He turned and made his way to the high perch just beyond the village, where the ikran rested. His bonded mount, Tawkami, raised his head the moment he approached, eyes bright with recognition. He let out a sharp, echoing chirp, already rising to his feet and shaking out his wings. Neteyam reached up to press his forehead against his, a soft chuckle rumbling in his chest. “You can feel it too, can’t you?”

He warbled low, nuzzling against him with excitement. The bond snapped into place with ease, tsaheylu weaving their thoughts together. Tawkami’s wings lifted with anticipation.

They launched into the sky together, slicing through the rising winds. The world stretched beneath them in darkness and silver moonlight, but Neteyam’s heart was steady. He knew exactly where he was going. The anticipation of seeing you again, of slipping into the quiet safety of your light and your laugh, filled him with something electric.

He hadn’t seen you in almost two days. And even though that wasn’t unusual for you—especially during sample analysis—it had still gnawed at him all day. He needed to see you. Hear your voice.

But when he reached the outpost, it was not the calm haven he had imagined. As the outpost came into view—a small glint of artificial light tucked between the trees—he felt the anticipation swell. Tawkami descended in a tight spiral, and Neteyam leaned into her rhythm, expecting quiet. Calm. Maybe your soft humming from inside the lab tent.

But something was wrong. The outpost wasn’t silent. It wasn’t calm.

The floodlamps along the wall were on, buzzing faintly in the humidity. The front gate was open, the interior glow flickering through the plastic panels of the lab’s main structure. But more than that—Neteyam’s eyes narrowed as he landed beside the Samson.

Its engine was still warm. Freshly used.

He ran a hand along the metal, frowning. That ship had returned with the xenobotany team just yesterday. If they were testing samples, they wouldn’t be flying again. They had protocols. Safety rules.

Why had it been used?

He dismounted in one swift motion, his instincts sharpening as his boots touched the packed soil. Tawkami shifted behind him, feathers twitching as she sensed his tension. Neteyam stepped into the main yard—and that’s when he saw them.

Norm. Max. Brian. Kate. And few other scientist whose names he didn't bother to remember.

All in full field gear—vests, boots, packs still strapped across their backs. They stood around one of the large plant containers near the far wall, a datapad held between them, its screen glowing faintly with a map.

A map of the mining zone. They didn’t look up right away. But Neteyam saw their faces—drawn tight with stress, eyes shadowed, clothes rumpled like they hadn’t slept in two days.

And she was nowhere. His chest went still. Cold. At first he thought—maybe she’s inside. Maybe she's working late again. Maybe— But then Max turned. Saw him.

And froze.

That look.

Neteyam knew it instantly. Something happened. He took three steps forward, voice low but hard. “Where is she?”

Norm looked up then, his face pale, jaw tight. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out for a beat. Neteyam’s heart thundered in his chest. “Where is she?” he demanded again, louder now.

Norm exchanged a glance with Max. Kate stepped back slightly, rubbing at her brow. Brian whispered something under his breath. Something that sounded like “shit.”

Neteyam’s stomach dropped. “She’s inside… is she?” he said, even though he already knew the answer.

No one spoke. Not yet. The only sound was the quiet hum of the datapad and the soft, electric whine of tension rising in his blood. Then Max finally stepped forward, slowly. “Neteyam,” he said, voice low, careful. “We need to talk.”

The world tilted. Cold and sharp. And Neteyam already knew:You were gone. And he had no idea where.

Kate was the first to break the silence. “You should’ve come earlier!” she snapped, voice sharp with frustration and something deeper—fear, maybe. “Maybe then we could’ve found her!”

Neteyam’s eyes snapped to her. “What?”

But Kate didn’t stop. Her words tumbled out too fast, like she’d been holding them in for hours. “We waited too long. We split up twice. The ridge was already washed out by the time we circled back, and then we couldn’t pick up any signal—not from her tag, not from the datapad. That fucking flux vortex… If you were here—if you’d just come earlier—”

“What do you mean find her?” Neteyam asked, the word catching in his throat. His voice was low, dangerous, but laced with disbelief. “Why would you need to find her?”

His breath was shallow now. In his mind, up until this moment, you were safe. You were in the outpost. You were maybe inside the lab, maybe reading, maybe sketching those new plant samples you found. You were waiting for him.

But the way they looked at him told him otherwise. He turned to Norm, needing to hear something—anything—different.

The man had known him since he was a baby. He’d patched his wounds, watched him take his first steps, taught him human words when Jake had refused. He had never looked at Neteyam with fear.

Until now. His lips parted. “Neteyam…” Norm said gently, like one might speak to a wounded animal. “She disappeared.”

The words didn’t land at first. Didn’t make sense.

“Disappeared?” Neteyam echoed, the syllables dull and foreign on his tongue. “No. She’s not—she wouldn’t—she was supposed to be here.”

“She went missing yesterday,” Max said, quietly stepping in. „But it was already near eclipse, and the storm rolled in faster than expected. We stayed until we couldn’t see anymore. We searched for hours.”

“You left her?” Neteyam growled, his voice raw now, cracked wide open.

Max stepped forward, raising his hands. “We didn’t want to—Neteyam, listen. We stayed as long as we could. But visibility dropped to nothing, and the eclipse was setting in fast. The storm was—”

“You LEFT her!” Neteyam shouted now, taking a step toward them.

“We marked the area!” Brian snapped back, frustrated. “We left signal markers! We planned to return at first light!”

“And what did you find?” Neteyam hissed.

The silence that followed was the worst part. Nothing. No one looked at him. Max rubbed his temples. “The rain washed everything. No tracks. No trail. No broken brush. Her comm is dead. Or damaged. We don't know.”

Neteyam’s chest heaved. His breath burned in his lungs. You weren’t here. You haven't been here since yesterday. You were out there. In the forest. Near the old mining zone. You had been out there during the eclipse. Alone. During the storm. During the night. And he—he had spent that night thinking you were safe, warm, maybe curled up with your datapad and tea.

But now—now he remembered the dream. You, trembling, soaked, clinging to a high branch in a blackened forest, lightning flashing around you. He thought it was just guilt. A stupid dream. He wanted it to be just a dream. But now— Now it felt like truth. You were still out there. His mate. You were still out there. “I’m going after her.” His voice was low, guttural. He turned on his heel.

“No, Neteyam, wait,” Norm stepped in front of him. “It’s dangerous. There’s another storm rolling in tonight.”

“I don’t care.” His jaw clenched. “I’ll find her.”

“You can’t see anything out there in the dark,” Max said. “We can barely navigate that terrain in daylight, even with scanners.”

Neteyam was already moving toward Tawkami, who growled low as if sensing his rider’s boiling fury.

“Neteyam!” Kate shouted. “If you get lost too, what good does that do her?”

“I won’t get lost!” he snapped. “I know that forest. Better than any of you. I know the pit. I know how the water runs.”

“But you can’t help her if you’re dead,” Norm said firmly, stepping between him and the ikran. “You go out there now, in this storm, in the dark, we may lose both of you.”

Silence followed that. Tawkami hissed softly behind him, restless. His heart roared in his ears. His whole body was screaming to move. But Norm stood there like stone. Unmoving. Max beside him, rain starting to tap on the Samson’s hull. The others watched, hollow-eyed.

Neteyam's breath came hard. He hated it. Hated waiting. But some small part of him—buried under the panic—knew they were right. Still, he turned his back on them and walked several paces away, just far enough to breathe, to feel the air against his skin.

“She was alone,” he whispered, barely audible. “All night.” No one answered. The wind picked up again, as if the forest itself mourned with him. And in his heart, something curled—tight, angry, and aching. Because waiting might be wise. But every second was agony.

For a moment, there was only the sound of rain beginning to pick up again—slow, steady drops on the metal roof of the outpost. The tension in the air was thick, almost electric, like a storm itself was standing in the room with them.

Then, from behind the group, a quiet voice broke through. “She didn’t have anything with her,” Raj said. His voice was small, almost hesitant. Neteyam turned slowly. His stare locked onto Raj’s like a spear thrown mid-flight. “Just… just her satchel. And a field knife. That’s it.” His voice cracked. “We thought… in the morning, with the storm and all—”

Kate hissed, “Raj, shut up—”

But it was too late. The words had already landed like knives in Neteyam’s chest. His vision tunneled. He stepped toward Raj slowly, his entire frame radiating something primal. The heat of fury rolled off him like smoke, barely contained. The others tensed as his shadow fell over the smaller man. “You thought you’d find her corpse?” Neteyam repeated, voice deathly calm.

Raj paled. Kate whipped around to stare at Raj. “You fucking idiot! What the hell is wrong with you?”

Raj flinched, clutching his side. “I didn’t mean—I was just saying—”

Neteyam was already walking toward them. His face was unreadable, but the way he moved—deliberate, quiet—set the hairs on Max’s arms on end. His eyes locked on Raj, dark and wild like a brewing storm. “Say one more thing,” Neteyam said lowly, his voice like thunder before the strike. “Say one more word that implies she’s dead.”

Raj swallowed, suddenly very aware that Neteyam, standing tall and furious, was ten feet of trained warrior who could break him in half without even trying. “You thought you’d find her body?” His voice was so quiet it was nearly a growl. “So you left her out there. You left her—with nothing but a knife—while the storm was coming.”

Max tried to step in, his hands raised. “Neteyam, listen, we—”

“No,” he snapped. “You listen. If anything happens to her—” he jabbed a finger at the group, his chest rising and falling with fury “—if she’s hurt, or worse, because you left her out there… I will make every single one of you regret the day you set foot in our forest.”

His voice dipped lower, deadly calm.

“I’ll burn this outpost to the ground. I’ll drag each of you into the forest and leave you to survive with just a knife. I don’t care what deal my father made. I don’t care about your research. If she dies—your lives mean nothing to me.”

The group fell silent. Pale.

“You think you’re here because Eywa allows it?” Neteyam’s voice rose like thunder, snapping around them like a whip. “You live in our forest because my People lets you. Because we chose to trust you.”

He pointed sharply toward the map still glowing on the datapad. “You call yourselves scientists, protectors of life—but you left one of your own behind.”

Even Norm took a step back, his hands half-raised, trying to de-escalate. “Neteyam, I get it—she’s important to you,” he said carefully. “But threatening us won’t help her.”

Neteyam bared his teeth—not in a snarl, but something close, his tail lashing behind him. “You think this is me losing control? You haven’t seen what happens if I do.”

Raj looked like he wanted to disappear. Brian wouldn't even meet his eyes.

“We did what we could,” Max insisted, voice tense. “We stayed as long as we could. We waited as long as we—”

“You’ve done nothing!” he shouted.

The air went dead quiet. Even the machines around them felt silent.

Neteyam loomed over them, muscles tight, his chest rising and falling like a warrior before battle. He wasn’t thinking clearly. Couldn’t. The only image in his head was you—cold, trembling, bleeding maybe, hiding from viperwolves or worse. Maybe still curled on a high branch, like in his dream. Maybe already—

No.

“You think scanning empty ground and waiting till morning counts as doing something?” Neteyam hissed. “She’s not a sample. She’s not data. She’s my mate.”

The silence that followed was stunned. Max’s mouth parted slightly. Brian swallowed hard. Even Kate looked like she’d been slapped. Norm’s expression changed. Not surprise—but realization. Quiet and heavy. Finally, without another word, Neteyam turned, storming toward Tawkami.

“Where are you going?!” Kate called after him, but he didn’t answer.

Tawkami crouched low at the signal, sensing his rider’s fury like a second skin. As soon as Neteyam swung into the saddle, the ikran launched upward in a burst of wings and wind, scattering dust and fear in every direction.

The outpost vanished beneath him like a bad dream. But the fire stayed. The forest was vast, and yes—he could search alone. He would search alone. All night if he had to. But he knew it wouldn’t be enough. He needed help. Real help. His family.

Kiri could hear through the forest better than anyone he knew. And Lo’ak—Lo’ak would fly through a hurricane if he thought it would help Neteyam find her. He tightened his grip on the harness, heart hammering.

The woven walls of the kelku were bathed in a flickering gold from the fire pit outside, but Neteyam didn’t feel the warmth. His steps were sharp, restless, pacing tight lines across the floor as he moved back and forth between his storage chest and the saddle pack laid out on the mat.

Bow. Quiver. Rope. Flint knife. Water skin. Another blade strapped across his lower back. Everything he could possibly need—and none of it would be enough. He dropped a folded tarp into the pack and buckled it shut just as the flap at the entrance rustled open.

Footsteps sounded behind him—quick and uneven. Lo’ak. “Bro, I thought you’d be back at dawn,” he said, pushing aside the kelku’s curtain with a lazy grin. “What, she kick you out this time or—”

He stopped dead when he saw Neteyam’s face. The smile fell off his mouth instantly. Neteyam didn’t even look up. Just secured the pack with a tight pull and dropped it near the door. “She’s not at the outpost,” he said, voice hollow and flat.

Lo’ak’s brows pulled together. “Wait—what?”

Neteyam finally turned, his eyes sharp, glowing like coals beneath the low firelight. “She went missing yesterday. During the field run.” His jaw flexed. “They lost her. Eclipse was setting in. Storm was rolling. They left her.”

Lo’ak’s eyes widened, disbelief etched into every line of his face. “What do you mean, left her?”

“I mean she never came back. And they abandoned the search after dark.”

Lo’ak stared at him, stunned—then his hands curled into fists. “Eywa…” he muttered. “And you didn’t kill them?”

“Not yet.”

Lo’ak looked at the pack, then at Neteyam’s gear. His brother. Always calm. Always in control. But now? He looked like a blade waiting to snap. “Who else knows?” Lo’ak asked.

“No one,” Neteyam said. “Not yet. And I want to keep it that way—for now.” He stepped forward, grip tightening on his bow.

Lo’ak stood frozen for half a second—then swore under his breath and stepped inside. “Eywa. Are you—shit. That’s why you’re back. You wanna go after her.”

Neteyam nodded once. “I need someone I can trust with this.” He grabbed the pack again and slung it over his shoulder. “Where’s Kiri?”

Lo’ak didn’t hesitate. “Still in the healer’s tent. She was helping Grandmother with the vision sap harvest.”

“Good. Get her.” Neteyam glanced up sharply. “We need her. You know how she hears things—how she feels things. She’ll help us track.”

“When do we tell Dad?” he asked after a moment.

“Not yet,” Neteyam said. “Not unless we have to.”

Lo’ak didn’t argue. He knew what it meant—for their father to find out. For their mother. “I’ll get Kiri,” he said quietly, then turned toward the door. Just before he stepped out, he paused, looking back. “We’ll find her,” he said firmly. “We’re not letting the forest take her.”

Neteyam didn’t answer—he just nodded once, eyes burning. Because she wasn’t gone. Not yet. And he would tear through the jungle with his bare hands to bring her home.

The storm had returned with a vengeance.

Wind howled through the trees outside the kelku, rattling the woven walls like angry spirits. Rain lashed the leaves in sheets, the forest moaning under the weight of wind and water. Thunder cracked above like a whip, and still Neteyam stood near the doorway, his pack at his feet, ready to run into it.

He was shaking. Not from fear—but from the raw, unbearable need to move. Then the curtain pulled back again.

Lo’ak stepped in first, face grim, and right behind him came Kiri, her braids still damp from the rain. She stopped when she saw Neteyam—really saw him—and her expression faltered.

Her eyes were wide the moment she entered, searching the space for something—anything—that might change the words her brother had just spoken. But all she saw was Neteyam, fully armed, jaw clenched, chest heaving like he hadn’t stopped since the second he landed. “She’s gone?” Kiri whispered, her voice cracking.

Neteyam didn’t answer at first. Kiri already knew. Lo’ak had told her everything. Kiri crossed the floor quickly, rain dripping from her braids, and stopped in front of him. Her hands were trembling, but she was trying to keep it in—trying to be calm. Trying to be steady. “She’s one of us,” she said, barely above a whisper. “She’s my friend too. Don’t shut me out.”

Neteyam closed his eyes briefly, nodding. “I’m not.” He opened them again, looking at her with raw, carved honesty. “I need someone I can trust with this. That’s why you’re here.”

Kiri walked further in, standing beside Lo’ak. “What are we doing?” Kiri nodded once, lips pressed tight.

Neteyam didn’t hesitate. “We find her.”

“Without telling them?” she asked, but it wasn’t judgment—just clarification.

He nodded. “If Mother and Father find out… they’ll demand answers. They’ll ask why I’m ready to tear apart the forest for a human girl. We don’t have time for that.”

Lo’ak gave a tired snort from near the door. “You say that like she won’t smell the panic coming off you tomorrow.”

Neteyam shot him a look. “Then we don’t give her time to. We’re out before sunrise.”

Kiri’s lips pressed into a thin line, but she said nothing more. She understood. They all did. Neteyam’s jaw clenched again. He didn’t answer. Kiri rubbed her hands over her arms, trying to stop the shiver that crept through her. She moved to sit beside the fire pit, staring into the flames, letting the silence stretch until she could breathe again.

Neteyam took a breath and moved toward the corner of the kelku where a small pile of scattered belongings rested. He crouched down and moved aside a folded cloth.

Lo’ak beat him to it—his fingers brushing against the cracked, black casing of a datapad half-buried beneath a pelt.

“Is this…?” he asked, holding it up.

Neteyam nodded once. “She left it here. A few weeks ago.”

Lo’ak sat on the floor, thumbing the cracked screen. “Still works.” He tapped a few controls, the screen flickering weakly to life.

Kiri leaned in. “She kept maps on it, didn’t she?”

“She kept everything on it,” Neteyam said, unable to help the faint smile that ghosted his mouth for a second and then turned back to Kiri.

Lo’ak tapped the screen, and it flickered to life, dull and sputtering—but functional enough. The blue-white map display shimmered into view, blurry lines tracing the jungle in grainy detail.

Kiri stepped closer, kneeling near his pack. “We’ll need a plan. Not just charge out there and hope. She’s smart,” she finally said. “If she knew she was lost, she’d look for shelter first. Not run around like a fool.”

“She has nothing but her satchel and a knife,” Neteyam said. “But she’s not helpless. I taught her what to do. Where to hide.”

“So do I,” Kiri said. “I trained her. Every herb I know. Every sign in the trees. She’s not Na’vi, but she listens better than most of us.”

“She’s smart,” Kiri said, voice tense. “She wouldn’t just wander aimlessly. She wouldn’t panic. Not after everything we taught her.”

Neteyam looked at her. “So where would she go?”

Kiri’s eyes narrowed, thoughtful now. “If she realized she was being left behind… she’d go high. Somewhere dry. She wouldn’t risk the waterline in a storm.”

“I know.” Neteyam crouched beside her. “We start at the mining zone. She was lost somewhere near the old ridge—right where the western shelf starts to collapse into the basin.”

“She’s smart,” he said. “If she got turned around, she’d know better than to stay near the pit. Too exposed. She’d move.”

“To where?” Kiri asked, kneeling beside him.

“Would she go east?” Lo’ak asked. “Toward the outpost?”

“She’d try,” Neteyam said. “She’d want to get back. But not in a straight line—not without direction. Not without light.”

Lo’ak crouched beside Kiri, turning the tablet so she could see. “There,” he pointed. “The pit. And the outpost. She’s somewhere in between.”

Kiri leaned in, her eyes scanning the terrain. “You think she’d try to go east?”

“But even if she did,” Lo’ak said, voice hesitant, “she’d have to stay hidden all night. Through a storm. She must’ve been so scared…”

Neteyam looked away. He didn’t need to imagine it. He dreamed it.

“She’s smart,” Kiri added. “But that’s still days of walking. Through unfamiliar terrain. Alone. It’s full of palulukans out there. Lanay’kas too.”

“But look,” Lo’ak pointed. “These creeks—there’s a few between the pit and the outpost. If she found one, maybe she followed it. Water leads somewhere.”

“We’ll need more hunters,” Kiri said finally. “Even just two. If we split the area, we’ll cover more ground.”

“No,” Neteyam said. “Not yet. I don’t want anyone else involved. Not unless we have to.”

Kiri glanced at him, eyes sharp. “Neteyam—”

“She’s mine,” he said quietly. “They wouldn’t understand. I won’t let her name be whispered through the clan like a curse.”

Lo’ak looked at him, the weight of that word—mine—settling deep between them.

Kiri exhaled. “Fine. Then we do this ourselves.” Neteyam nodded. “But not tonight.” He looked up sharply. “You know we won’t find anything in this storm,” Kiri said gently. “It’ll bury any trail she left behind. If we go now, we’ll waste energy. We’ll miss signs.”

Neteyam hesitated. Every instinct in his body screamed go. Every heartbeat was a drum pounding now, now, now. But he also knew Kiri was right. She always was. He dropped the charcoal and let his hands rest on the mat.

“You need to rest,” Kiri said. “Both of you. We’ll go at first light.”

Lo’ak sighed. “She’s right, bro.”

Neteyam sat down hard on the edge of his mat, burying his face in his hands. The rain thudded against the kelku like a war drum. His heart beat in time with it—furious, aching.

“Get some rest,” she added. “You need to be strong. For her.”

He didn’t argue. No one spoke for a long moment. He just stared at the storm outside, praying—begging—that you were out there, still fighting. That somewhere under all that rain, you were waiting for him to find you. And he would. No matter how long it took.

The night held no peace.

Outside the kelku, the storm raged—rain battering the woven walls like distant drums, thunder rolling across the canopy in great, groaning waves. Inside, Neteyam sat still for hours, legs crossed near the entrance, unmoving, listening to the wind and the rise and fall of his own breath.

Eventually, exhaustion dragged him down. He didn’t remember closing his eyes. But he dreamed. Again.

He found himself in a clearing. It wasn’t like before. Not rain-soaked branches or shadows full of teeth. This time, it was quiet. Too quiet.

The air was soft and heavy, the storm strangely absent here. Everything was quiet—too quiet. No insects. No rustling leaves. Just the sound of creaking metal and the slow moan of something swaying in the wind.

Between the trees, a Samson hung broken from the high branches. Its tail section was caught on a twisted trunk, the body dangling at an awkward angle—like a forgotten toy. The wind stirred it gently, letting it creak and swing in slow arcs. Half the cockpit window was cracked. Panels torn away. The metal gleamed wet and sharp.

And in the grass below it— You.

You sat curled on the damp moss, your knees drawn in, your satchel spilled to one side. Your hair was a tangled mess, stuck to your cheeks and brow. And your hand—your small, shaking hand—was cradled in your lap, slick with blood. A deep, angry slice carved across your palm, oozing fresh and vivid.

You were crying. The sound hit him like a spear to the chest—soft, trembling sobs, the kind he’d never heard from you before. Not in the labs. Not in the field. Not even in your worst moments.

He stepped forward slowly, his feet soundless on the moss. Your head jerked up. And when you saw him—saw Neteyam—you didn’t speak right away. Your lower lip wobbled, and you blinked hard, trying to clear the tears.

Then you reached out toward him. You showed your hand to him like a child might, small fingers shaking, your palm smeared with blood. A jagged cut sliced from the base of your thumb to the edge of your hand, the skin torn and pulsing.

“It hurts, Neteyam,” you whispered. Your voice was soft. Broken. Like a child. He dropped to his knees in front of you, reaching for your wounded hand, cupping it gently in both of his. You winced. “I climbed… I thought maybe I could reach the comm system,” you whispered, not meeting his eyes. “There was a shard of metal—I didn’t see it until…”

You trailed off. He gently turned your hand over in his, examining the wound. Deep, but not fatal. Not if it was cleaned. Not if it didn’t get infected. But the way your fingers curled inward told him you were in pain. Real pain.

And not just physical. “I’m sorry,” you whispered.

He looked up sharply. “For what?”

You shook your head, tears spilling over your lashes. “For being scared.”

He froze. You never said that. Not in the field, not in the labs, not even when he warned you of creatures in the trees. You’d always smiled and said you’d be fine. “You’re here, aren’t you?” you’d say, like that was all you needed.

But here, now, you were trembling in front of him. And you couldn’t look him in the eye. Neteyam’s jaw tightened. “Stop.”

“I just—” you exhaled shakily, still not looking at him. “You’re a warrior. You wouldn’t be afraid if you were alone like this. You wouldn’t cry.”

He gently tilted your chin up with two fingers. “Don’t say that.”

“I don’t want to die out here,” you whispered, voice cracking. “Not alone.”

Neteyam felt his whole chest collapse inward at the sound. You finally looked up at him. And your eyes—those bright, curious, maddening eyes—were rimmed with red, filled with something raw and terrifying. “I want to see you one more time,” you said, barely audible. “Even just for a minute.”

His hands slid to your face, cupping your cheeks with infinite care. “You will,” he said fiercely. “You’ll see me again. I promise.”

“But what if I don’t—”

“You will.” He pressed his forehead to yours. “You will, yawne. You hold on.”

You nodded, tiny, trembling. And then—

He woke. His breath left him in a sharp gasp as he sat up straight, drenched in sweat, the woven mat beneath him cool from the night air. The storm had passed sometime before dawn. His heart still thundered in his chest.

Outside, the sky was turning faintly gray.

First light.

Neteyam ran a hand down his face, dragging air into his lungs as if it might slow the pounding. He looked around, the kelku still and quiet, Lo’ak and Kiri probably preparing already, waiting. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, staring down at his trembling hands.

What was that?

A dream. Just a dream. But it hadn’t felt like one. It felt too sharp. Too vivid. He could still feel the warmth of your blood on his fingers. Still hear your voice in his ears. He clenched his jaw. His mind was playing tricks on him. It had to be. Showing him things—fears, nothing more. You were smart.You knew how to survive. You would survive.

And they would find you. He stood, shoulders squaring as he reached for his bow and strapped on the pack.

The morning brought a break—just enough light to fly under—but the forest was soaked, the canopy still weeping. Everything beneath the trees was washed clean. Or, at least, clean enough to make tracking impossible.

They flew out before the sun fully crested the ridgeline, a trio of silent shadows on their ikran: Neteyam, Lo’ak, and Kiri. No one else. No word to their parents. Not yet. Neteyam wouldn’t allow it. He couldn’t take the weight of Neytiri’s disapproval—not when every second was a scream echoing through his bones.

They swept past the cliffs in tight formation, their path following the old scar of the mining pit—a stretch of land long since swallowed by vines and forest, but still raw beneath the surface. The ghosts of what had been done there still lingered, in broken stone and blackened soil. Neteyam hated this place. And now it hated him back, swallowing the one thing he couldn’t afford to lose.

They searched for hours.

Kiri guided them in long, looping arcs, dipping down every time she felt something—movement, a wrongness, even the softest disruption in the silence. Lo’ak stayed close to Neteyam, knowing better than to let him veer off on his own. Not now. Not when he was wound so tight he looked ready to snap his bow over his own knee.

Neteyam didn’t speak much.

Every few minutes he’d dive low, scanning the mud for a boot print, a scuff, a sign. But the rain had done its work. Nothing remained. Every root was clean. Every patch of soil was untouched. The forest was too quiet. As if it was hiding something.

By midday, they regrouped at a narrow ridge above the northern basin. Lo’ak circled overhead once before landing beside his brother. “Nothing,” he said, breathless, frustrated. “Not even a broken leaf.”

Kiri landed just behind them, her braid plastered to her neck with sweat. Her face was pale. Tired. “It’s like she vanished,” she said softly.

“She didn’t vanish,” Neteyam growled, pacing along the edge. His steps were sharp, his jaw clenched so tightly it looked like it hurt. “She didn’t just disappear.”

“Bro…” Lo’ak tried gently. “The storm—”

“I don’t care about the storm,” Neteyam snapped, turning sharply. “She had to go somewhere. She’s not stupid.”

Kiri approached carefully, her voice even. “And maybe she went west. Or south. Or climbed high to stay out of the water.”

“You saw the map,” Neteyam said, voice low and fierce. “There’s no shelter past this point. No caves. No high ridge that would hold her weight in that storm.”

Lo’ak glanced toward the trees. “Then maybe she backtracked.”

“We would’ve seen it.”

“Maybe not,” Kiri said. “Maybe she covered her trail. Or maybe Eywa covered it for her.”

Neteyam’s jaw worked, his fists clenched at his sides. “Or maybe she’s lying out there somewhere dying, and we’re here talking about maybes.”

That was the first moment they saw it—really saw it. The crack starting to form. Neteyam had held himself together through everything—through duty, through pressure, through the endless push and pull between his family and his own secret love. But now? Now he looked like a cliff edge after the rain. One more tremor, and it would all fall.

“Neteyam,” Kiri said softly, stepping forward. “Please.”

He didn’t move. She placed a hand on his shoulder. “We need to go back. Just for tonight.”

“No.”

“Neteyam—”

“No,” he snapped again, but this time his voice cracked at the edges.

Lo’ak stepped in next, placing a hand on his other shoulder. “We’ll come back. At sunrise. Just like now. But you have to rest.”

“I can’t rest.”

“Then fake it,” Lo’ak said, eyes sharp. “Because if you collapse out here, we’ll be dragging both of you back to the village.”

Neteyam hesitated—but his legs trembled just enough to give him away.

Kiri tightened her grip. “She’s alive,” she whispered. “I know it. Eywa hasn’t taken her. I would feel it.”

Neteyam turned toward her then, finally, his eyes wide and hollow. “What if I can’t? What if we’re too late?”

“You won’t be,” Kiri said. “Because we’re going to find her. Together.”

Neteyam stood there, trembling, for a moment longer. Then finally—finally—he let his shoulders fall. “Fine,” he whispered. “But we leave again at dawn.” They left in silence. The rain had started again, light but steady, soaking through their clothing as they mounted their ikran and soared back into the grey.

It felt like defeat. But it was survival. Just barely.

Day Four

They left again before dawn. This time, the light was clearer. The storm had finally passed in the night, leaving the air cleaner, cooler. The sun broke through the canopy in soft gold streaks as they returned to the last known location, the wind carrying birdsong and the scent of wet bark.

And it was Neteyam who saw it first. They were passing the northeastern edge of the basin, gliding above a ridge when something below snagged in his vision—a shape, tall and gnarled, rising from the slope near the ravine.

A tree. But not just any tree.

It stood out from the others—its bark weathered and dark, limbs twisted like old hands. One of its roots had grown high over a rocky outcrop, forming a natural hollow. Shelter. High enough to escape floodwaters. Thick enough to shield from rain.

He nearly dropped from his saddle. Lo’ak and Kiri followed without question, their ikrans diving after him. They landed on the ridge beside the tree, and Neteyam was off his ikran before her talons touched the earth. He ran straight to the trunk, sliding to his knees beside the hollow.

It was there. Neteyam didn’t answer at first. He just stared. There, halfway up a steep, moss-covered rise, was a tree.

A thick-barked colossus with roots that rose like spires around its base, and a hollow carved into the trunk high above—just large enough to shelter a body. Neteyam’s heart slammed against his ribs. “That’s it,” he whispered. “That’s the one.”

Lo’ak frowned. “What?”

“I saw this tree,” Neteyam said, already dismounting. He stepped through the mud, pushing toward the roots. “In my dream. The night she vanished. I saw her—shivering—in the hollow. And there were viperwolves circling the base.”

Kiri followed fast behind, her voice cautious. “Are you sure?”

“I remember the shape of the branches. The tilt of the roots. The way the light cut through here—” He pointed to the canopy above. “It’s the same.”

Lo’ak followed, brow furrowed. “You think it was Eywa? A vision?”

Neteyam didn’t answer. He was already climbing. The roots were slick but solid. He hoisted himself up with quiet, practiced movements, and when he reached the hollow—

He went still. Inside, the tree was dark, lined with old nesting leaves and bark. But near the back, half-buried under a clump of moss, was a shape.

His hand trembled as he reached for it. A single white button. Round. Stretched along the edge. It was from the shirt you wore the morning you left. He remembered the way it sat just beneath your collarbone. You’d complained the buttons were old. He’d joked that he’d just rip them all off next time. Now it lay in his hand.

“Neteyam?” Kiri called from below.

He turned slowly, clutching the button so tight it nearly cracked in his palm. “She was here,” he said, voice hoarse. “She was alive. She made it through the storm. She climbed up here to escape.”

Kiri and Lo’ak stared up at him, eyes wide. “And the wolves?” Lo’ak asked.

“No blood,” Neteyam said. “No bones. No torn cloth. She wasn’t attacked.” He dropped to the ground in two swift motions, landing hard.

“She survived. And she moved on.”

Kiri’s eyes narrowed. “That hollow’s old. She might’ve only stayed a night.”

“But she was alive when she did,” Neteyam said, voice full of urgency now. “We’re close.”

Lo’ak looked around. “So what now?”

“We switch tactics,” Neteyam said, breathing fast. “We stop flying. From now on, we track on foot. She’s not in the trees. She’s moving through the ground. We need to see the forest the way she would.”

Kiri nodded. “Pa’li, then. No ikran. Ground only.”

“She’s not far,” Neteyam whispered, clutching the button like a lifeline. “She’s not far. And she’s still alive.” And this time, he was sure. The forest hadn't taken you yet. And he would find you. Even if it took every step, every hour, every last piece of himself to do it. He would bring you home.

The kelku was quiet, lit only by the flickering fire pit. The smoke curled lazily toward the open vents in the roof, but Neteyam barely noticed. He sat cross-legged on the edge of his sleeping mat, spine rigid, head bowed. The white button lay in the center of his palm, resting there like a fragment of bone. Small. Insignificant.

And yet it felt like it weighed more than stone. It was the only thing he had from you since you vanished into the forest. The only proof that you were still out there. That you hadn’t just… disappeared. He turned it over slowly between his fingers, rubbing the edge with his thumb.

Now it was the only thing he had. Not your laugh. Not your touch. Not the way you’d wrinkle your nose when you concentrate too hard or hum that one off-key Terran tune you swore was “meditative.”

Just… this. A button. The first sign you had survived that storm. That you had made it through one more night alone, in a world that wasn’t made for you.

His eyes drifted down to the half-carved neckpiece at the side of the pelt. The one he’d started for you, the one he couldn’t finish because the day he picked up the stone was the day you went missing. He reached toward it, slowly, running one hand over the notched bone beads already strung. The river-hanger vine rested beside it, partially braided, the iridescent stone glinting faintly under the firelight. It should’ve been done by now. Should’ve been around your neck, warm against your skin, fingers brushing it every time you laughed.

Instead it lay unfinished. Empty. He leaned forward, pressing his palms into his eyes, breathing slow, deep, strained.

He couldn’t lose you.

He should finish it. That was the plan. When you came home, he’d give it to you, watch the way your cheeks flushed and your fingers fidgeted, and you'd mumble something about how you didn’t deserve something so pretty.

Couldn’t let that dream become a prophecy—the one where he’d seen you sitting in the tall grass under a low-hanging Samson, blood dripping from your hand like petals. He hadn’t told anyone about that one. Not even Kiri. Not when it felt so close. Too close.

But now…

He clenched the button tighter in his palm. Now he wasn’t sure if he’d ever get the chance. The fire cracked softly. Outside, a breeze stirred the trees. And then, without warning, the curtain at the entrance shifted. Neteyam’s shoulders tensed instantly. A tall shadow stepped in.

Jake.

His father.

He stood there in silence for a breath, just watching. Neteyam said nothing. Didn’t even try to hide the way he bristled. Jake’s eyes flicked once around the kelku. The gear piled neatly by the wall. The bones. The carving tools. And the half-finished pendant resting beside his son’s pelt.

His gaze narrowed. “I’ve been looking for you,” he said finally.

Neteyam didn’t move. “You found me.”

Jake stepped inside, brow furrowed. “You’ve been gone every day since the last hunt. Always out before dawn. Always coming back after dark. And your siblings are with you.”

Neteyam didn’t answer. His fingers twitched around the button.

Jake took a breath. “You’re going back to the clearing, aren’t you?” he said, tone low. “Where we saw the assault ship. You think there’s movement there.”

Neteyam’s head snapped up. “No.”

Jake raised a brow. “Don’t lie to me, boy.”

“I’m not,” he said sharply. “You want to talk about recon? Ask anybody elsei. I’m not wasting time going back there.”

Jake crossed his arms, watching him. “Then what are you doing?”

Neteyam’s jaw clenched.

“You don’t answer to no one now?” Jake asked, stepping forward. “You disappear for days at a time. Avoid your mother. Duck out of every gathering. Refuse every invitation to meet with Sa’nari. You don’t even look at K’shi anymore. Your mother says you haven’t shown interest in anyone.”

Neteyam laughed, bitter and low. “I wonder why.”

Jake’s brows lifted.

“I’m out there,” Neteyam said, rising slowly to his feet, “doing what you raised me to do. Surviving. Working. Leading. And suddenly, you’re interested in my love life?”

Jake didn’t flinch. “I’m interested in what you’re hiding.”

“I’m not hiding anything.”

Jake’s eyes flicked again to the pendant beside the pelt. “What’s this?” he asked, reaching out.

Neteyam was on his feet in an instant. “Don’t touch it.”

Jake looked up, startled. Neteyam’s face was drawn tight, jaw clenched, eyes blazing. “Is it for Sa’nari?” Jake asked carefully.

“I’m not telling you.”

Jake’s expression darkened. “That’s not how this works.”

“Funny,” Neteyam said bitterly. “Because nothing about this has worked for me.”

Jake took a step forward. “Neteyam—”

“I’m doing what I have to do,” Neteyam said, voice low and tight. “I’m trying to do everything right. And still—it’s never enough. I’m either too stubborn, or too cold, or not enough like you.”

“That’s not true.”

“No?” Neteyam barked a laugh. “Because it sure as hell feels like it.”

Jake’s tone shifted, quieter now. “I get it. You think I don’t? I know what it’s like to carry too much. I became Olo’eyktan before I was ready. I led a war before I understood what leadership really meant. And every day after that, I had to prove I was good enough to stand in the place I’d taken.”

Neteyam’s breath hitched—but he didn’t speak.

“I know it’s hard,” Jake said. “I know it feels like you’re being crushed from every angle. Like you have to carry the future while everyone tells you how to live it. But you don’t get to shut me out when things get hard.”

Neteyam finally looked at him.

Neteyam’s throat worked. He wanted to scream it. That you were missing. That you were alone. That every breath he took without knowing where you were was agony. That he couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, couldn’t breathe without seeing your face somewhere in the trees. But if he said it—if he said your name—it would be over. He turned away. “You wouldn’t understand.”

Jake’s voice dropped. “Try me.”

Neteyam froze. The silence stretched. Then finally—slowly—he turned his head just enough to speak over his shoulder. “There’s someone out there,” he said. “Someone who matters.”

Jake’s brow furrowed. “What does that mean?”

Neteyam didn’t elaborate. His eyes flicked to the pendant. The button. The fire.

Jake took a breath. “You’re scaring your mother.”

“I’m doing what you taught me to do,” Neteyam said coldly. “Protect what I care about. Even if it means breaking the rules.”

Jake stared at him for a long time. Then, finally, he stepped back toward the entrance. He paused at the curtain, one hand lifting it just slightly. “You’re keeping something from me, Neteyam. I know it.”

Neteyam didn’t look at him.

“I just hope,” Jake said quietly, “it’s not something that gets you killed.”

Then he was gone. The curtain swayed. Neteyam stood there for a long time and every breath felt like a countdown.

You were out there. And he was out of time.

The day was already thick with heat when they rode out.

The air clung to Neteyam’s skin like oil, humid and oppressive beneath the canopy. Their pa’li moved steadily over the forest floor, hooves squelching in soft earth, rain still dripping from swollen leaves. Kiri rode ahead, her eyes sweeping the ground. Lo’ak flanked behind, quiet for once.

Neteyam said nothing.

He hadn’t spoken since before dawn—not after another restless night spent staring at the unfinished neckpiece beside his mat. Not after his father’s visit. Not after pressing the white button to his lips and swearing he would not return without you.

They moved past a low stretch of reeds near the creek when Kiri reined in sharply. Her pa’li snorted. “Wait,” she murmured, swinging down. She knelt beside a clump of ferns, brushing her fingers through the damp leaves.

Neteyam dismounted fast, landing beside her. There, wedged under a moss-covered rock, was a shred of something pale. Kiri carefully pulled it out—a torn corner of paper, stained and softened by the rain.

Lo’ak squatted beside them. “Is that…?”

Neteyam grabbed it gently, turning it in his fingers. It was some kind of book—standard RDA stock, crumpled and torn, the ink smeared into illegibility. And stabbed through the center? A thorn. Clean. Deliberate.

“She marked it,” Neteyam whispered. He stood fast, scanning the trees—and then he saw another one. Farther ahead, tucked into the crook of a low branch: another scrap of paper. Pierced through and fluttering slightly in the breeze.

“She made a path,” Kiri said, eyes wide. “Eywa…”

Neteyam didn’t wait. He was already mounting. “Let’s go.”

They followed the path for half an hour—scraps hidden under stones, wedged behind bark, clinging to vines. Each one was like a heartbeat. A pulse. A whispered sign that she was still fighting. Still alive.

And then the trees opened. A clearing stretched before them—tall grass swaying in the midmorning light, golden-bright and deceptively peaceful. But it wasn’t the clearing that made Neteyam’s breath catch. It was the shape above it.

Suspended between the high trees, caught in a web of vines and roots and gravity’s slow mercy, hung a Samson gunship. Rusty. Broken. Twisted with age. Just like in his dream.

His pa’li halted with a soft grunt, sensing the shift in his rider’s pulse. Neteyam didn’t dismount. Couldn’t. He sat frozen, staring at the hanging craft like it had dropped out of his nightmares.

It was the exact same clearing. The exact same spot. The tall grass. The angle of the trees. This was where you had sat in his dream. This was where he’d seen you bleeding. “Eywa…” he whispered.

Behind him, Lo’ak was already moving, climbing up the low branches toward the side of the Samson. “I’ll check the cockpit,” he called.

Neteyam barely heard him. His vision swam. Please no. Please. Then, above him—

“Shit,” Lo’ak said. Neteyam’s head snapped up. And then the words came, sharp and terrible: “There’s a corpse up here.” It was more of a statement.

It was like getting shot in the chest. Everything inside Neteyam dropped. He was moving before he realized—bolting forward, leaping onto a twisted root, scrambling up the tangled vines as if his body no longer belonged to him.

He didn’t think. Didn’t breathe.

She’s gone. She’s gone. You were too late. You should’ve gotten here days ago.

His hands slipped on rusted metal, vines tearing under his grip. He hauled himself up over the edge of the broken ramp, eyes wild.

He was going to see you.

Dead.

Cold.

Eyes closed.

Face slack.

Gone.

The metal groaned beneath his weight as he pulled himself into the dark interior of the Samson—and stopped.

There, slumped in the pilot seat, was a corpse.

But not your corpse.

The uniform was faded tan. RDA insignia still barely visible on the shoulder.

The body was long decayed—just bones and sunken fabric, held together by rot and time. Probably had been here for twenty years, left behind after the war when this Samson crashed and never recovered.

Neteyam sagged forward, pressing one hand to the wall, breathing hard. He hadn’t realized how certain he was that it was you. How much he had already braced himself to see you—cold, broken, gone.

But it wasn’t you. It was some ghost of the past. A pilot who hadn’t made it out of the war. Neteyam didn’t respond right away. Instead, his eyes began to move across the interior.

The cockpit was rusted, yes—but solid. It had held together over the years. The control panels were useless, the wiring fried, but the frame was intact. It could have held weight. A person.

You.

He crouched lower, eyes scanning the corners, the dust-covered floor— And then he saw it. A helmet. Not the soldier’s.

An RDA exo-mask. Propped on its side in the corner, just beneath the pilot’s seat. Inside it… was liquid. Red-brown. Thick. His heart jumped. He reached for it, carefully, lifting it with both hands. The inside panel had been cleaned, smoothed out into a curve—used like a bowl.

First, he thought it was blood. His chest went cold. But then—he brought it to his nose. And stopped. Herbs.

Rulvansip.

Medicinal.

It smelled like the inside of Mo’at’s tent. It smelled like healing.

You have been here.

You used this.

You had treated a wound.

Just like the dream. A wound in her palm. He ran a shaking hand over the glass. “She was here,” he said hoarsely. “She stayed here. She used this.”

Kiri and Lo’ak looked up from below. “Then we’re still on her trail,” Lo’ak said. “Right?”

Neteyam didn’t answer. He just sat there, holding the mask, staring into that rusted cockpit, knowing that for one moment—one terrifying, beautiful moment—he was sitting exactly where you had once sat.

And it meant one thing.

You were still moving.

You were still fighting.

You were still alive.

The fire burned low, its glow soft and unsteady as it crackled in the center of the kelku. Shadows danced on the walls, flickering in slow waves across Neteyam’s face as he crouched near the hearth, unmoving, eyes locked on the flames. The broken screen of the old datapad lay between them, its display cracked and stuttering—sometimes showing the trail map, sometimes just static.

Lo’ak sat cross-legged, turning a dull knife slowly in his hands. Kiri leaned back on her palms, eyes scanning the glowing map projection as it flickered. They’d been going in circles for hours—marking paths, arguing possible turns, retracing your steps in their minds.

Maybe you’d doubled back. Maybe you had turned east again, toward the outpost, following the sun like Neteyam had taught you—head low, wound bleeding, stubborn and alive.

Lo’ak lay on his side nearby, one arm folded under his head, his voice hushed but tense. “We could backtrack to the outpost. If she was trying to follow the sun east, she might’ve tried to stay close to old trails. Even if she veered north, that whole quadrant’s easier to move through.”

Kiri nodded, sitting cross-legged near the fire, frowning in thought. “I’ve been thinking the same. She wouldn’t have gone north. Not with a wound. And the forest gets denser out there—steeper, more dangerous.”

Lo’ak added, “From the Samson to the outpost is not far. We can ride straight in from the creek basin. Be there by midday. But for her on foot…”

Neither of them looked at their brother. Because Neteyam hadn’t said a word in over an hour.

He crouched by the fire pit like a statue, shoulders taut, tail flicking in short, restless motions. His breath moved slow—too slow—and his eyes… weren’t really watching the flames. Not anymore. He was somewhere far deeper.

Inside.

Spiraling.

The heat licked his face, dry and too bright. But it was the only thing anchoring him now. I can’t breathe. He hadn’t breathed properly since the day you went missing. Not really.

For a year, you were just another human—just another voice in the outpost, tucked behind a datapad with dirt under your nails and stubbornness in your voice.

For two years after that… you were a strange ache in his chest. A curiosity. A spark. Someone who saw Pandora like it was made of wonder, not war.

Then you started saying his name like it mattered. In time, you stopped being a scientist to him. And then—somewhere in the quiet moments between shared glances and too-long conversations—you became something more. His distraction. His gravity.

His little star.

You burned so differently from his world—so strange and stubborn but gentle with every living thing. You weren’t Na’vi. You weren’t meant to belong. But you did.

To him.

In the last half year, since the first time you kissed him—messy, laughing, breathless—it had become unbearable to be apart. He’d never been meant for hiding, for secrets. But with you, he would hide forever if it meant keeping you. If it meant waking to your touch, even in silence. If it meant you were still his.

And now?—now you were gone.

He clenched his jaw, nails digging into the skin of his palms as he stared into the fire.

íYou have become part of him.

Every day they were apart since that first kiss had felt wrong. Empty. He needed you near him—needed your laugh, your warmth, your hand brushing his. He didn’t care that it had to be secret. Didn’t care that no one would understand. He needed you like breath. Now, all he had left was a trail of torn paper. An old dream. And the smell of herbs in a mask you’d used to heal yourself.

If I’ve already lost you…

He couldn’t finish the thought. Couldn’t let it live inside his head. His throat felt tight. His chest burned.

I can’t lose you. Not now. Not when you are finally mine.

He reached toward the flames without thinking—just close enough for the heat to bite his skin—and curled his fingers inward, as if grasping for something that wasn’t there. Kiri watched him, her voice faltering as she trailed off mid-sentence. Her eyes narrowed slightly, and she leaned forward.

“Neteyam,” she said gently. “You’re doing it again.” He didn’t blink. “You’re slipping,” she said, softer now. “You’re going too deep.”

Still nothing. Kiri moved toward him, settling beside his crouched form, her hand brushing his arm. “Neteyam,” she whispered. “Look at me.”

His breath came out as a shudder. Then, slowly, he turned toward her. “I need to find her,” he rasped. His voice cracked on the last word. Kiri nodded, her grip tightening. “I need her, Kiri. I can’t—I can’t lose her. Not when… not when she’s finally mine.”

It slipped out of him, barely above a whisper. And that’s when the curtain at the entrance rustled.

Neytiri stood in the doorway, framed in firelight. Her eyes were sharp. Her expression is unreadable. “What did you say?” she asked, voice like a drawn bowstring.

Neteyam froze.

Kiri went still beside him.

Lo’ak straightened slowly, the knife slipping from his hand with a dull thud against the floor.

Neytiri stepped further inside, eyes narrowed, locking onto her eldest son with slow precision. “Neteyam,” she said again. “Who is… ‘yours’?”

The fire snapped. The datapad flickered. And in the suffocating silence that followed, Neteyam didn’t move. Couldn’t move.

Because everything—everything—was about to break.

And he didn’t know if he could stop it.

Part 24: To breath

The next part will be again from reader's pov.

#avatar 2022 #avatar the way of water #avatar twow #james cameron avatar #neteyam #neteyam sully #neteyam x reader #neteyam x human reader #neteyam x you

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vivid-ink · 2 years ago

Text

"The Love Shack" Part II - Three is a Perfect Crowd

Relationship: Neteyam(23) x fem!Omatikaya reader(21) x Lo'ak(22)

Read Part I - The Proposition HERE

Story Summary: You’d heard the whispered speculations and stifled giggles during the daytimes. You’d seen the furtive glances that the other women cast at Neteyam and Lo’ak through coquettish eyes, cheeks stained a blushing mauve as they exchanged coy smiles with the two brothers. And during the nights? Hell, you’d heard the moans and wanton cries for yourself… You were definitely curious, but did you have it in you to go through with their proposition?...

Warnings: Adult content 18+ MDNI Word count: 7.9k Content: Mentions of group sex, MMF threesome, smut, sex toy play, squirting

Author's Note: Thank you to all of you who read, commented, reblogged, liked and asked to be tagged for Part II!

@teymars @eyweveng @leaveitbythewave @luvteyams @ @akiras-key @bajbr @questioningconstellationsstuff @reggiesslut @neteluvr @savvysscandles @dasaniix @emery-333 @vintaqestar @ @live-laugh-neteyam @itssomeonereading @strawberry-vamp0 @clairevoyanceee @delacruzyari @bluecooki3 @aalex561-blog @frustrated-kitten @innercreationflower @wolf12thsworld

Here is Part II and I warn ya, it's all filth. 🤭 Grab a glass of wine, a blanket, a towel, whatever you need... and enjoy!

***~~~***

Indecision wasn’t something you were accustomed to. You’d always prided yourself on making strong decisions both personally as well as professionally. It was one of the reasons you rose through the ranks to beat out all the other warriors to become Neteyam’s second-in-command. So, the fact that you’d spent majority of today vacillating in your decision to either go or not go to the outpost was an uncomfortable anomaly.

The conclusion of last meal earlier in the evening had brought with it a burning imperative for you to make your final decision and stick with it. You were dismayed to find that the urgency of the time didn’t help you one bit.

You’d trudged on shaky legs into the woodlands in the outpost’s general direction, before being overwhelmed with a severe case of cold feet. However, instead of turning and running for home, you’d plopped yourself down on some moss and begun whittling away at your half-finished spear from yesterday while you dithered further.

That was a couple of hours ago and it was getting late now.

The present found you parked in the woodland scrub just outside the old outpost with your finished spear in hand. The hesitant side of you hoped that maybe Neteyam and Lo’ak might have abandoned their proposition after your no-show, given the late hour. However, the lambent glow of the lamps inside the outpost shelter and the muffled sound of one of them laughing told you otherwise.

The curious side of you thrilled with anticipation at the unknown…

The brothers had done well to refurbish the abandoned outpost. It had been the central gathering place for the war council during the Long War with the sky people, and it had suffered severe damage during battle. The end of the Long War had been a long-awaited blessing and the outpost had been abandoned, its function no longer necessary and the memory of what it symbolised too painful for some to bear.

But Neteyam and Lo’ak had rebuilt the damaged settlement, renewing it with new textiles, new fibres and new designs. Apart from its core structure, it hardly even resembled the old war outpost anymore.

Approaching the outpost’s entrance where a set of draping cloths served to shield its interior from outside eyes, you steeled yourself under your breath, “Come on, just go and have a look. You can leave if it’s not your thing, like Neteyam said.”

You’d come this far… one peek wouldn’t hurt? If you were honest with yourself, the taste of Neteyam’s kiss had lingered on your lips and tongue all of last night, and it was your craving to experience it again that had brought you here.

Urging your feet forward, you were in process of reaching to part the cloths when they suddenly flew apart from before you as someone made to exit. You hissed, startled in alarm, instinctively lowering yourself into a defensive position with your spear pointed frontward.

“Argh! Holy shit!” Lo’ak exclaimed, stumbling backward in the face of the sharp weapon you were wielding, “Great Mother, who do you think you’re going to be spearing with that?!”

Immediately lowering your spear when it became apparent you were in no danger, you were quick to deliver a faltering apology, “Sorry, you gave me a fright!”

“I gave you a fright? Goddamn woman, I was just going to take a leak and I nearly pissed myself!”

“Sorry!”

The other side of the entry cloths parted to reveal Neteyam who had come to investigate. There a momentary flash of surprise on his face before one side of his mouth quirked upward in a wily grin that made your ears heat.

Recovered now from the scare you’d inflicted on him, Lo’ak shot a smug smirk at Neteyam and remarked at you, “You’re very late. Don’t have too much fun without me, I’ll be back.”

Neteyam stepped aside to allow you to enter while Lo’ak left to relieve himself. You padded on tentative feet into the outpost and you were astonished to find the space quite innocuous. The interior held all the usual furnishings that you’d expect in a living space; rugs, throws, cushions and soft mats; woven decorations hung from the upper framings of the outpost and a cosy-looking fire burned in a central hearth.

Your expression must have betrayed your thoughts as Neteyam broke the silence with a chuckle, “Not what you expected?”

“I didn’t know what to expect, to be honest.” That was mostly true, you didn’t have any specific expectations or imaginings of the place, you just hadn’t expected the space to look so normal.

From the salacious gossip that had run rampant amongst the women about their experiences here, as well as from your memory of the sensual cries you’d heard that one night you’d ventured near enough, you’d projected a more sordid atmosphere than the one you currently found yourself in.

“When you didn’t show soon after last meal, I figured you weren’t coming.” Neteyam breathed.

You turned to look at him properly for the first time this evening and you noticed his relaxed attire. You were used to seeing him in full warrior regalia, but tonight he was dressed simply, without his cummerbund, arm and leg guards, and no weapons. A beaded choker necklace adorned his neck and a woven armband hugged one of his impressive biceps, but apart from this and a purple loincloth, the rest of him was bare.

You could see so much of his skin… smooth and striped, and cerulean blue all over hard muscle…

“My curiosity evidently won out in the end.” You replied, attempting to tamp down the buzzing knot of nerves in your belly with a small smile at him.

“You can put this down.” Neteyam reached for your spear, prying it gently from your grasp and moving to set it against the nearest wall. His eyes glimmered warmly in the firelight, “No one will hurt you here.”

You nodded, rubbing your empty palms together with a deep breath. You began to circle the space, noticing that it was bigger than you initially thought as there were more cloth draperies that hung to the sides of the shelter that served to partition it off into different sections. Each section held more of the same comfortable furnishings, but the drapes clearly served the purpose of privacy.

Thankfully, as your curiosity increased, your nervousness decreased and you finally felt comfortable enough to ask, “So, what? The women come here and everyone just plays?”

A husky chortle from him, “If that’s what people want to do. Sometimes everyone just relaxes over some drinks and hangs out. Things don’t necessarily always escalate into more.”

You cast him a sceptical look, continuing on your exploration of the place, “And how often is it that sex and body play doesn’t end up on the agenda?” If gossip was to be believed, then you knew it wasn’t often at all that things stayed chaste.

When Neteyam didn’t respond, you turned to face him as he followed you and the wicked grin on his face confirmed that what you’d surmised was right. You rolled your eyes and he laughed.

“And what are these tawtute (human) things that all the women rave about? These tools that supposedly bring pleasure like nothing they’ve ever experienced before?” You queried, intentionally keeping your tone flippant despite the flagrantly sexual nature of your question.

Neteyam’s hot breath ghosted the nape of your neck and you realised he had walked right up to your back, “Come, I’ll show them to you.”

A warm, large hand enveloped one of yours and he led you over to another part of the shelter where a cloth-covered shape lay. Kneeling before it, Neteyam lifted the soft cloth to reveal an intricately designed chest woven from flax and colourful fibres. Undoing the leather snap at its front, he opened it to reveal a plush-lined inner in which sat a series of instruments in of varying shapes and materials you’d never seen before.

The colours of these instruments were also bright, unnaturally so. There were a myriad of shades and tones of colour that existed on Pandora, but the pinks, purples a blues you were looking at were very artificial. A bright blue tool caught your eye and unable to resist, you slowly reached to pick it up. It was smooth and long, and you could only just wrap a hand around the width of it. Its length was also slightly curved, tapering upward at the end.

Neteyam watched quietly as you picked through the various offerings in the chest, running your fingers over the smooth silicone of the toys. He fought to keep his composure as erotic thoughts of you using them began to assault him. You appeared rather intrigued by the blue g-spot vibrator you held, though he could tell by the slight frown on your face that you weren’t really sure what it was for.

“That’s an insertion toy. It goes inside you.” He informed, “And if you turn it on. It vibrates.”

Vibrates… You’d never heard that human word before and you didn’t know what it meant. You let Neteyam take the toy from you and he fiddled with something on its length before it came to life with a buzzing hum that made you jump.

Extending cautious fingers towards the humming toy, you touched its vibrating form before withdrawing your hand, “It tickles.”

“It feels good against you when it’s in the intended place.” Neteyam’s voice was slightly rough and you could smell the familiar musk from last night emanating from him again.

“Do they all go inside?” You asked, eyeing up the other oddly shaped toys, some of which did not look particularly comfortable to insert.

“Not all. This is a wand vibrator and it’s generally only for external use.” He picked up a purple toy, which had a longer handle and a large bulbous head at the end. Switching this one on, you noted that his one hummed even more aggressively than its blue predecessor.

“Whoa, straight into the toy box, are we?” Lo’ak had returned and his voice was a teasing drawl as he joined you and Neteyam, “Getting right down to business then.”

Ears flattening a little at the jibe, you harrumphed at Lo’ak, “I’m just looking.”

The few loose braids by his temple clacked as he laughed, “Oh, they’re not made for looking at, trust me.”

The bravado you’d found waned a bit with Lo’ak’s return, the reality of the situation seeping into you. Great Mother, were you really here discussing sexual implements with two men?... Were you seriously contemplating engaging in a sexual encounter with them?...

Standing up to put some distance between you and the two brothers, you dusted your knees off lightly and suddenly felt rather out of place. You didn’t know what to do with your hands and you didn’t know where to rest your eyes either.

Sensing that his bold teasing had thrown you off kilter, Lo’ak stood to meet your eyes and his face was sincere as he spoke, “Hey, if you were curious and just wanted to see what this place was about, that’s OK. We can just hang if you want to.”

You didn’t acknowledge Lo’ak’s last statement with a definite answer. You warred within yourself. What did you want?... You were nervous, but you didn’t want to go either. The recollection of the searing but short-lived kiss you’d shared with Neteyam made an appearance again in your mind. You wanted to explore that further… By Eywa, you didn’t think you’d object to kissing Lo’ak either…

Like his older brother, Lo’ak too was dressed simply. Neteyam had risen to his feet next to him and they made an incredibly handsome pair. You could absolutely understand why the other women lusted after them. After all, you were hardly innocent of that crime. Your long-standing attraction to Neteyam had ensured that.

“No, I’ll- I’ll stay.” You resolved, “I don’t want to be the only one who’s left out of the loop.”

The two brothers shared a look that you couldn’t decipher the meaning of. It was a glance between them with fairly neutral expressions, but you did see the slight upturn of their lips.

“Where’d you even get those things anyway?” You questioned. You knew that with their mixed heritage and with Jake originating from the humans’ side, that there were many tools and instruments that the olo’eyktan had adopted for use in the clan. However, you could hardly imagine the olo’eyktan openly bringing in sex toys for the clan’s wider use.

“Spider.” Neteyam supplied with a fond laugh, “He’s got quite the knack for sourcing and supplying us with contraband under the radar from the avatar camp.”

You giggled at the thought of Spider. You liked the human. He lived majority of his life amongst the Omatikaya with the Sullys anyway, so despite his foreign form, he was very much Na’vi at heart.

There was one last set of drapes in a corner by the toy chest which caught your eye. It was the only partitioned section of the outpost that you hadn’t yet explored. Ambling towards it you murmured, “What’s behind here? More of the same?”

Neteyam and Lo’ak watched you approach the last partition, knowing full well that what was behind the draperies was not simply more of the same. The last pair of drapes led into their main play area. Quietly they awaited your reaction and sure enough it came soon after in the form of a soft gasp.

They’d built a large, raised bedframe in there and on it sat a thick bedding mat swathed in silken fabric. The bed was sizeable enough to sleep several adults and piles of plush cushions and rolls lined one end of it. The other main feature of the play area, which was also courtesy of Spider, was a large mirror that ran along one entire wall.

You’d never seen anything like it. The gigantic bed was one thing, but the strange pane of whatever it was that spanned the entirety of the opposite wall was breathtaking. You had never seen your own reflection so clearly in your life, save for the completely still water of a puddle after heavy rain, and even that was a far cry from this. Mesmerised, you approached the large pane until you were standing right before it.

“It’s called a mirror.” Lo’ak’s deep timbre sounded.

You’d been so entranced by your reflection that you hadn’t noticed the two brothers enter the space behind you. They flanked you now, one on either side.

“It’s amazing.” You breathed in astonishment. Your fingertips met its cool and solid surface and you marvelled at the clarity of it, “Everything is so clear. It’s beautiful.”

“Just like you are, paskalin.” Neteyam’s words elicited another intake of breath from you and your amber eyes met his in the reflection of the mirror.

Both brothers were standing very close to you, their bodies angled inward towards yours. They were close enough that a subtle shift on either side of you would cause your arms to brush their torsos. Your ears twitched as you perceived the quiet sound of their breaths and your skin prickled with the body heat you could feel exuding from their bodies.

The mirror’s reflection also allowed you to see yourself in-between them and it became apparent to you how much taller and bigger they were in stature compared to you. The top of your head only just skimmed past their chins and your lithe body was much willowier next to their more muscular physiques. The image was as arousing as it was intimidating…

Lo’ak was carefully scenting you now, in a very similar way to the way Neteyam had done the night before. He trailed a hand up your forearm and he pulled you against him to sniff at your hair. Lo’ak’s scent was different to Neteyam’s, but it was no less appealing to your feminine senses.

Through the reflection you saw Neteyam dip his head and you anticipated his action moments before you felt the scorching heat of an open-mouthed kiss against the other side of your neck. Your next inhale was a quivering rush of air into your lungs and your heart began to pound with want.

Leaving a trail of nips up your neck to your jaw, Neteyam paused to purr by your ear, “This is a place where people come to feel good and surrender to pleasure. Rank doesn’t matter here and you leave the outside world at the door. You set the boundaries, paskalin, but if you stay tonight then you must also promise to trust us.”

You turned your head towards him, chasing Neteyam’s lips with your own, yearning to taste him again. But he pulled away with a roguish smirk that promised your patience would be rewarded if you waited.

Your reply was a breathy whimper, “Yes.”

“Is there anywhere you don’t want to be touched?” Lo’ak murmured, the fingers of one hand tickling your hip while its twin splayed flat against the small of your back.

“No, it’s all fine.” Your chest heaved with your deepening breaths, every nerve ending hyperaware and hypersensitive in the waking dawn of your arousal.

Lo’ak’s answering grin was lascivious and the hand at your back pulled the tied knot of your chest-covering free. The garment shifted as it loosened, the beads scraping over your stiffening nipples. Neteyam was quick to undo the last tie of the garment behind your neck, and with a gentle swish it fell from your body entirely, leaving you exposed.

A harsh groan sounded from Neteyam and he cupped one of your breasts, letting his thumb flick over its hard peak, “Eywa, you don’t know how long I’ve wanted touch you like this. Every time your covering shifted at work, every little peek I was afforded when it slipped momentarily, it was torturous.”

Neteyam had been looking at your breasts?... The sentiment was an exciting surprise to you and you leaned into the agonising brush of his fingers over your nipple.

Lo’ak joined his brother, stroking and fondling your other breast, “You’ve got such pretty nipples, and Eywa, they love being touched.”

A stifled moan left you as pleasure shot straight to your core from the stimulation. Your head lolled onto Neteyam’s shoulder and he clasped your chin to angle it the right way so he could reward you with a passionate kiss. You felt him snake a hand down your front, the heat of his palm blazing past your navel to travel even lower. You jolted when he cupped your crotch, his fingers deftly finding the outline of your clitoris and rolling against it.

Neteyam broke away and the absence of his mouth allowed a desirous whine to escape you. He posed another question to you, “How much do you want from us tonight?”

You were dizzy with desire and your core pulsed with liquid heat. You gave another ragged moan when Lo’ak knelt down to capture one nipple in his mouth. Your eyes flicked forward to the wanton reflection before you; one brother suckling on your breast, the other with a hand buried between your thighs while he watched you. The press of their bodies against yours was delicious and you could see matching erections straining behind their loincloths in the reflection.

Your decision came to you undeniably, and you abandoned all your inhibitions in the heat of the pleasure you were experiencing, “I want everything. I want you both to fuck me tonight.”

Their reaction was immediate. There was a flurry of motion as both brothers moved, working in tandem to free your loincloth as well as their own. Naked now as the day you were born, every part of you screamed with want while every inch of your bare skin was pressed up and imprisoned between two aroused male bodies.

You were turned and facing Lo’ak now and you could feel his hard erection throbbing between the press of your torsos. He claimed your lips in a full but brief kiss and then said, “You know, if we’d known that all it would take to get you here was a private session with us, we would’ve done this sooner.”

“You’re incorrigible.” You retorted with a chuckle.

“Shall we move to the bed?” Neteyam suggested hoarsely, “I’m rather impatient to explore you, paskalin.”

“No wait,” You stopped him. You looked into the mirror again, rather enjoying the wide and unimpeded view it gave you of the whole space. Both Neteyam and Lo’ak were gorgeous to look upon and you wanted to enjoy the vision of their imposing frames while they were standing. “I want to enjoy looking at you both like this first.”

Facing the mirror front on with the brothers on a slight angle, your eyes tracked from the top of the pane downward. They were both panting lightly and their pupils were dilated wide with lust in their beautiful faces. Broad shoulders and muscular chests were followed by powerful abdominals that tapered to their slim hips and strong legs. But of course, the two things your attention snapped back to, once your eyes had reached their feet, were their impressive erections.

Biting your bottom lip and feeling frisky, you encircled each of their cocks in your grasp, one in each hand. They were both strapping men, so it didn’t surprise you that they were proportionate in this department too. Simultaneous grunts came from them both when you began a slow squeeze and stroke. Great Mother, they were gorgeous here too… long and girthy, hot skin over rigid hardness that made your pussy clench in yearning…

Lowering yourself to your knees, you peered up at them both while you continued your pumping rhythm over their lengths. You could see they were enjoying themselves, their abs flexing and contracting with their pleasure.

Turning your face towards Neteyam, you held his eyes as you parted your mouth and licked a slow stripe up his cock and over the head of it. His hips jerked involuntarily, a hiss whistling from between his gritted teeth. When your next move was to take his cock into your mouth and suck most of the way down, his response was a strangled cry. It took some effort and co-ordination on your part, but you conscientiously bobbed and sucked while still stroking Lo’ak as well.

“Fuck, you look and feel so good.” Neteyam droned, panting through an open mouth as his face contorted and moved through a series of expressions, all of which spoke to his immense enjoyment.

Lo’ak’s hips were thrusting lightly, pushing and pulling his hard flesh in a delicious glide through your grasp. He would let out the occasional whimper, which mingled sensually with Neteyam’s unrestrained groans. Lo’ak gave a small whine shortly after and you gently drew off Neteyam’s cock with a small pop, licking your lips.

You turned to the younger brother and grinned coyly at him, “I haven’t forgotten about you.”

Lo’ak’s deep chuckle rumbled in his chest and he cocked his head at you with a wink, “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t have let you forget about me anyway.”

The higher-pitched whine that then followed when you did take his cock into your mouth was a very stimulating contrast of sound.

Neteyam was shifting behind you and you felt him pat the inside of your leg lightly, “Part your legs a little for me.”

Still pleasuring Lo’ak, you multi-tasked and did as you were told. Out of the corner of your eye in the mirror, you saw that Neteyam had moved to lie on his back and had shimmied his head and shoulders between your knees.

Having a bird’s-eye view of the situation and understanding his brother’s intent, Lo’ak smirked and looked down to meet your eyes where you continued to suck him off, “You’re in for a treat, sweet thing.”

Neteyam’s firm hands gripped your hips to lower you slightly towards him. You could feel his breaths puffing gently against your pussy, which you knew was slick with your arousal. The rasp of his tongue against your folds and up to your clit was like a bolt of lightning to your core and you jumped, choking on Lo’ak’s cock when your body failed to co-ordinate your inhale of air with the bob of your head.

The assault that Neteyam began on your core was rapturous. He alternated between broad licks and swipes of his tongue and nose, and intent suckling on your clit. Lo’ak had withdrawn himself from your mouth, settling for stroking himself instead while he enjoyed the view of you squirming over his brother’s face. Leaning forward to place your hands on the ground, you rocked your hips, smoothing your core over Neteyam’s face. Breathy whimpers were coming from you as you neared your climax, but just as it was within your reach, his grip on your hips shifted and he lifted you upward from him to sit up.

“W-Wait no!” You squealed as your bottom plopped onto the ground beneath you, “Why’d you stop?!”

“Shh sorry, paskalin.” Neteyam soothed, cleaning his face off on the back of his wrist and swooping in to kiss you, “We’ll take care of you later, promise. We’re just building you up first. It’ll be worth it. Trust us, yeah?”

Chortling at the wounded expression of disappointment on your face, Neteyam got to his feet before reaching down to pull you up to your own. Your legs were unsteady, but it didn’t matter as he bent to scoop you into his arms next and carried you onto the large bed. Lo’ak had momentarily disappeared from view, but when he reappeared with three colourful implements in hand, you understood the reason for his disappearance. The sex toys.

You felt like you were burning up as you lay on the soft bedding. The heat was like molten pleasure through your veins. The tips of your nipples tingled and your pussy ached to be touched again. Lo’ak returned to join you on the bed and he handed the toys to Neteyam.

Coaxing you to sit up, Lo’ak moved to sit behind you with his legs spread so you could lean back against him. Pressing a kiss to the side of your face, Lo’ak whispered, “How about we give my brother a bit of a show, hmm? He likes to watch. It really gets him going for later.”

You looked at Neteyam, who had perched himself at the end of the bed facing you both. There was a mischievous glint in his eyes, almost as if he’d heard what Lo’ak had whispered to you and thoroughly agreed with the idea. You felt Lo’ak’s hands snake under your knees and he proceeded to then hitch them up towards your torso, leaving you splayed wide in exhibition before Neteyam who merely smirked.

Neteyam crawled closer, a couple of toys in hand. You recognised the blue one from before, but there was another strange gold coloured implement you didn’t recognise. You frowned at it warily and your body stiffened as you tried to sit more upright, “What does that do?”

“It’s a suction toy. It goes over your clit.” Neteyam explained while Lo’ak soothed your nerves with some gentle hushing. Stroking a hand over one of your parted thighs, Neteyam reassured you, “If you’re not enjoying it, let me know and we can stop, OK?”

Relaxing back into the position Lo’ak had put you in against him, you nodded in consent. At this moment, you really just wanted to be touched again.

As if hearing your thoughts, Lo’ak’s hands shifted to your breasts, caressing the soft flesh and toying with your nipples again. Your back arched into his hands and he chuckled by your ear. You felt Neteyam place the gold toy carefully between your legs, adjusting it so he nestled neatly against your tingling clit.

With a few clicks, the toy whirred to life and your eyes flew open wide at the new sensation. It was like a pleasant and rhythmic series of tapping against you, and as Neteyam increased the intensity of it, the taps got faster and faster until it all melded into an incredible humming sensation with a delightful suction to it.

“O-Ohhh,”You sighed, your eyes sliding shut as you concentrated on the pulsing pleasure. The pleasure settled into a delightful tempo of rhythmic contractions that made your thighs quiver in Lo’ak’s hold. It was nothing like you’d ever experienced. You’d pleasured yourself and been pleasured by men before, but this was something else…

“That’s it, paskalin, just lean into it. Feel for the rhythm of it.” Neteyam coaxed, watching keenly as the muscles in your pussy began to visibly throb and squeeze. His next words were a profane curse as he palmed his straining erection with his free hand. He badly wanted to have your pussy throbbing and squeezing around his cock like that… not yet, but soon…

Lo’ak was watching through the mirror’s reflection, thoroughly enjoying the view of you whilst also relishing the way you were writhing against him with mewls and sighs. His gaze lifted to lock with his older brother’s and he grinned when you your moans began to intensify, “Let’s see what we can make of her, bro.”

Thoroughly absorbed by the building waves of ecstasy that wracked your core, you didn’t even register that Lo’ak had said anything. The bliss was unreal. You felt the smooth blunt tip of something prod at your entrance and you cracked open a lid to see Neteyam running the blue vibrator through your folds. He was watching you carefully for any sign of objection and when you didn’t give him any, he breached you slowly but surely with it.

A hoarse groan tore from your throat at the satisfying addition that filled your pussy. The pulsing and clenching between your legs intensified and just when you thought things couldn’t feel any better, Neteyam switched the vibrator on and it began to hum inside you too. Your jaw was slack and you could feel your face was contorted into a grimace of pleasure.

Neteyam began to pump the vibrator in and out in a mimicry of thrusting, and your hands flew to clutch at Lo’ak’s thighs beside you. You were only half-aware of yourself, your body suspended in what felt like a never-ending loop of thrumming ecstasy that was speeding you towards an inevitable orgasm that would tear you apart. Something else was building too amid the throbbing of your core. There was a pressure increasing behind your pelvis with each terribly torturous thrust of the vibrator within you.

The throaty sounds you were emitting now were making it very challenging for the two brothers, whose own lust had skyrocketed in the last while as they’d watched you. Both hands occupied with pleasuring you, Neteyam was caught in a cruel contradiction between wanting to see you through and also wanting to touch himself to ease some of the pressure. Meanwhile, Lo’ak was canting his hips against your lower back to find whatever friction he could.

You were so close, teetering on the precipice of blessed oblivion, but you needed more…

You squirmed, trying to shift in Lo’ak’s hold where he had a firm grip on you behind your knees, straining to reach your climax. Your speech was a stutter, your panting breaths punctuated with by whimpers, “P-Please, I want to- I need-”

“What do you need, paskalin?” Neteyam asked, swallowing the saliva that was rapidly pooling in his cheeks at the shameless sight of you, almost completely undone under what his hands were doing to you.

“Please, one of you, just fuck me already!”

There was an immediate halt in the unforgiving pleasure that had assailed you as Neteyam haphazardly flung the toys aside, crawling on all fours to reach you. However, Lo’ak was faster.

The younger brother had shifted you to lie on your side while he stretched out alongside you with your back against his front. He’d hoisted one of your legs upward bent at the knee to splay you, his hard cock poised to enter you.

Hisses and growls filled the air suddenly, startling you somewhat out of your lust-filled haze. You peered through foggy eyes to see Neteyam knelt on your right, his nose wrinkled and teeth on display in an aggressive snarl at his brother, who you could hear hissing in return by your ear.

Lo’ak let out a glacial laugh, “Don’t be like this, bro. We’ve been through this before.”

Neteyam’s response was a harsh growl and his ears were pinned flat to his skull.

Not wanting any animosity between the two brothers, you attempted to mollify them, “Hey, don’t fight, what’s wrong-”

An unimpressed scoff sounded from Lo’ak and he tightened his hold around you, “I know my brother, sweet thing. He won’t let me have you once he’s gotten his hands on you. See, you’re not the only one here who doesn’t like to share.”

Neteyam scowled but he didn’t disprove his brother’s assessment. With a resigned growl like thunder in his chest, he appeared to acquiesce so long as Lo’ak abided by one demand, “Fine, but don’t cum inside her. She’s mine.”

You saw a gleam of possession in Neteyam’s eyes and heard the covetousness in his voice. It was such outlandish behaviour from him, considering you were so accustomed to his usually placid demeanour, but his jealousy was thrilling to you. He lowered himself onto his side in front of you, propping his head up on one elbow to watch.

A shudder rippled through you when you felt Lo’ak glide his cock against your slippery entrance. You felt him reach between you to position himself and he penetrated you with a sharp thrust. Your cry of pleasure was a croaky moan that sounded in time with Lo’ak’s guttural groan of satisfaction as your walls clenched tight around his length. Your pussy fluttered around the width of him and you revelled in the delightful stretch of the feeling. Definitely bigger than the blue vibrator that had been there before…

Lo’ak set a punishing pace of thrusts and your breaths punched out of you with each one as his hips collided with yours. Through half-lidded eyes, you noted that Neteyam was surveying the pair of you with a rather tetchy countenance. Reaching out to him with the hand you weren’t lying on, you caressed his cheek, beckoning him to kiss you. You were enjoying being railed by Lo’ak, but you still wanted Neteyam too.

Neteyam indulged you and you moaned into his mouth while his tongue and lips swept against yours. The pressure at your core was mounting rapidly again and Lo’ak’s uninhibited moans, as he took his pleasure from your body, only served to spur your pleasure onward.

Through the moist melding of your lips with Neteyam’s, you took his wrist and purred a request to him, “Touch me, Neteyam.”

His fingers found the swollen nub at the apex of your thighs and he began to press and circle it in an insistent rub. Your head flopped back against Lo’ak while you whined in bliss at the addition of Neteyam’s actions.

The nagging pressure in your pelvis returned along with the burn and pulse of your pussy. You could see your anticipated ecstasy within reach, but the pressure behind your pubic bone was increasing with each of Lo’ak’s hard thrusts. It felt like an urgent and insistent need to relieve yourself all of a sudden, and it alarmed you…

Eyes flying wide, you tried to shift in Lo’ak’s hold to stop him, ““W-Wait, I need to-”

Neteyam silenced you with a kiss and he hushed you softly, “Let go, paskalin. I know it feels strange, but just go with it.”

Frantic and feeling completely out of control as your orgasm loomed, you spluttered, “It feels like I’m going to wet myself!”

You saw Neteyam’s eyes flick to his brother behind you and they must have shared a meaningful look, for instead of slowing down or being gentler, Lo’ak added a swivel to the trajectory of his hips and Neteyam’s fingers persisted in their massage against your clit.

“Let go, trust me.” Neteyam breathed over you, “Come on, Neyomi.”

You didn’t know if it was the way he’d purred your given name, or if it was just a coincidence of timing and you couldn’t bear it any longer, but you succumbed to the tidal wave of pleasure and allowed it to consume you. A piercing scream ripped from you upon the initial wave. Your entire body went rigid and your pussy contracted intensely, pushing several spurts of fluid from between your legs. You were only dimly aware of the wetness you were emitting as you enjoyed the fleeting weightlessness of your powerful climax.

“Ah, fuck!” Lo’ak pulled free of you with a guttural shout to spill outside of you and over your taut belly and hips as your orgasm has triggered his own.

His breathing was ragged now whilst he came down from his own high and with a wary glance at Neteyam, he leaned over to steal a sloppy kiss from your parted lips, which you returned with a soft moan. He rolled away then onto his back, knowing that his brother would want his time with you now.

The keenness of your senses were slowly returning to you as you recovered from the explosive sensations you’d just experienced. All too aware now of the dampness on the bedspread beneath you, your hands flew to your face in embarrassment. What the fuck happened?... It had felt so amazing, but you’d wet yourself at the end of it…

“Great Mother, I’m sorry. I’ve made a mess.” You murmured through your fingers and you scooted up the bed into a sitting position, looking mortified at the drenched patches on the bedding.

Neteyam’s husky laugh was an unexpected reaction and your round eyes regarded him in bewilderment. Even Lo’ak was chuckling away where he lay relaxing with an arm thrown over his eyes.

Neteyam pulled gently at your hands, “Look at me. You haven’t wet yourself, alright?”

“I don’t understand.”

“What you just experienced was a squirt. It doesn’t happen all the time, but it can happen with intense orgasms from rigorous stimulation.” Neteyam explained mildly, before he graced you with a devious smirk, “It was extremely arousing to witness, paskalin.”

The deepening growl of his tone set shivers tingling down your spine again and your eyes dropped to the still prominent erection in his lap. That’s right, you asked to be fucked by two brothers tonight… one down, one more to go… and this was the one your blood seemed to sing for; that your heart leapt for whenever you saw him…

You knew your skin was already flushed from the earlier activities, but you felt renewed heat tinge your cheeks as Neteyam pushed onto his knees to shuffle closer to you again. Sitting before his kneeling form, you were just at the right height to take hold of his cock. Stroking it gingerly, you placed a shy kiss on its tip and lifted your eyes to meet Neteyam’s as he stared down at you. Great Mother, you felt your pussy squeeze again at the expression he wore, which was masculine possessiveness in the best kind of way…

“Don’t get shy on me now. I’m not done with you yet.” He hissed, grimacing as you began the luscious suck and bob of your head over his swollen length, “That all you got for me? You were choking on my brother’s cock earlier.”

Lifting your gaze to his again at his goading, you perceived a familiar warmth swirling behind the covetousness in his eyes, and something warm unfurled in your chest. Neteyam��s words had been taunting, but you could see he was just teasing you. You doubled down on your effort anyway, savouring the titillating feeling of his throbbing cock in your mouth while he groaned openly.

An unexpected click and rumbling buzz caught you unawares and you stilled. You felt the bed sink a little behind you and you realised that Lo’ak had moved to place something next to you on the bed. Drawing your lips up and off Neteyam’s length, you picked up the purple wand toy you’d seen in the chest before. It rumbled temptingly in your grip and you instinctively look at Neteyam for instruction.

“On your hands and knees, but keep facing me.” He directed, “My brother can help with this toy.”

Once again, you did as you were instructed and you redirected your attention to Neteyam’s hard flesh, returning it to the moist confines of your mouth. You’d always enjoyed giving blowjobs. Men were beautiful creatures, especially the one before you now, with all his formidable strength and taut muscle. You’d always found giving them pleasure a turn-on.

You jumped when the rumbling vibrations of the wand toy skimmed up the inside of one of your thighs, drifting dangerously close to your core before it was moved away. It repeated a similar path up the inside of your other thigh before trailing downward yet again. The vibrating tip of it began its ascent again and this time you canted your hips towards it, earning a dark chuckle from Lo’ak who was clearly enjoying teasing you.

Deciding not to be cruel, Lo’ak pressed the bulbous head of the wand against your core and began to stroke it back and forth over you. Your throaty groan of pleasure was muffled and Neteyam thought to himself how alluring you looked with your eyes rolling back while your mouth was full of him. It was an image straight out of his erotic fantasies of you…

Rocking to and fro as you sucked, the delicious rumbles of the wand were deep against your sensitive flesh and your clit was throbbing under the onslaught. You could taste Neteyam’s pre-cum on your tongue and his hands had framed your face, stroking your hollowed cheeks while he slurred pledges to you of how beautiful you looked.

Lo’ak was afford an unimpeded view of your rear and your pussy, your tail curled up and away in an erotic display. He could tell from the twitching throb and clench of your muscles that your second orgasm was not far away. “She’s close, bro.”

You whimpered as Neteyam extracted himself from your mouth at his brother’s report and he bent to whisper in your ear, “I’m going to fuck you now, paskalin. Do you want me to take you from behind or do you want me to face you?”

“I want to kiss you.” Your response was not quite a direct answer to his question, but it was telling enough for Neteyam to make his decision. Grasping you under your underarms, he hauled you upright onto your knees before he toppled you onto your back against the plush cushions.

Pinning you under the delightful heaviness of his muscular physique, you parted your thighs to cradle his slim hips as he positioned himself where he needed to be.

Neteyam’s handsome face was wicked and he paused to purr a filthy promise to you, “You’re going to remember me like this. Every day at work and every night in your dreams, you’re going to remember the feel of my cock inside you as I fuck you.”

Oh Eywa your work days… It was going to be a test of your composure not to let your very unprofessional behaviour not colour your professional conduct with him…

Like with his brother before, the burning stretch to fullness of him as Neteyam pushed inside you was incredibly satisfying, but it was more intimate face-to-face like this. You could watch his every expression like this as he began to thrust; his eyelids were heavy; his lips were parted, and a variation of higher-pitched whimpers and low groans were falling from him.

For Neteyam, your wet heat clutching at his cock was a staggering sensation. He felt his length throb in gratification as your pussy squeezed around him. After watching his brother fuck you and then having to wait his own turn, his own orgasm was racing towards him at a much quicker pace than he anticipated. He wanted to wring another climax from you first though…

Remembering that you’d expressed a desire to kiss him, Neteyam lowered himself onto his elbows so your front was flush with his and only his hips were canting back and forth. Nuzzling your cheek tenderly, he sealed his mouth over yours in a fervent kiss that stole your breath from you.

The hardness of his pubic bone rocked over your clit with each of his thrusts in this position, and each press of his body against yours brought you one step closer to ecstasy. These ‘steps’ weren’t a slow stroll either, they were more like a hurtling sprint. The familiar pressure within your pelvis started up again, but this time it didn’t alarm you. Every piston of Neteyam’s hips was hitting a pleasurable spot inside you that acted like a pump, building the pressure and winding it tighter and tighter.

Neteyam distractedly wondered to himself how Lo’ak had held out for as long as he did when he’d fucked you. Your core was a slippery vise around him, every thrust working his swollen cock from root to tip. His head was buried by the side of your face now as he groaned and panted. Your own cries were getting louder now, to his relief. He didn’t know how much longer he’d last…

“Fuck, paskalin, you’re driving me insane. I’m so close.” He grunted.

“Same. Keep going.” You kissed him again.

When the surge of ecstasy washed over you a second time, you relinquished your control and the pressure in your pelvis snapped with another orgasmic squirt. With your thighs cradling Neteyam’s hips and your arms raking his back, you felt him stiffen with his own climax, his thrusting becoming erratic as he roared his pleasure into the cushion under your head. A viscous heat seeped out from your core where you were still joined, a sensation that had been absent before with Lo’ak, which you now recognised was the evidence of Neteyam’s orgasm.

Adjusting himself so he wouldn’t crush you under his weight, Neteyam rolled onto his side. He tittered naughtily then and his grin was smug, “I told you I’d make you come. Welcome to the love shack.”

Recalling your foot-in-mouth innuendo from the previous night, you rolled your eyes and giggled, “Great Mother, who would’ve guessed that underneath the well-mannered gentleman that you’re such a wild beast.”

Warm skin enveloped your other side as Lo’ak shifted closer to join you, throwing a leg over one of yours and tangling you to him. He murmured by your temple when he placed a kiss there, “Think you’ll swing by again, sweet thing?”

Tilting your head back and craning your neck upward, you gave Lo’ak a deep kiss before turning to do the same to Neteyam, “Only if I can have you both to myself again.”

Lo’ak smirked, bending to kiss and nip at a gradually peaking nipple while Neteyam ran a hot hand down your torso to slip his fingers through your folds, slick with a combination of your own wetness and his seed. You could feel their cocks hardening again where they were pressed to either side of your hips.

By Eywa, stamina as well as skill? No wonder the women kept returning…

Neteyam eyed you and his response was a salacious murmur, “I believe that can be arranged, paskalin.”

PART III - Blurring Lines HERE

***~~~***

Author's Note: I'm quite sure this is filthiest piece I've ever written... 🫣I don't know how I pulled almost 7.5k of sexy stuff out of my brain, but I hope you all FELT this in all the right ways and all the right places... Three cheers for our two boys Neteyam & Lo'ak!! Woot woot! Thanks for reading this! Leave me a comment, I'd love to hear from you and thanks for all your likes and reblogs too! 😘

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vague-humanoid · 11 months ago

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U.S. and allied forces have been attacked more than 170 times during the Gaza war: 102 times in Syria, 70 in Iraq, and once in Jordan. The latter assault, in January, ignited a round of escalatory U.S. counterattacks against Iranian-allied targets that led Iran to rein in its proxies. As Israel has widened the Gaza war in recent weeks, with more provocative attacks in Lebanon, Iran, and Yemen, Iran’s partners have resumed attacks on U.S. outposts across the region.

While America’s enemies have demonstrated, to lethal effect, their knowledge of the locations of U.S. bases in the region, the Pentagon’s public affairs office claims to have no list of such outposts. “I don’t have any inherent information,” Defense Department spokesperson Pete Nguyen told The Intercept earlier this year. CENTCOM refused to comment on the locations of its bases, citing several reasons, including partners’ reluctance to admit to the presence of U.S. troops in their countries. “[O]ur relationship with the host nations is one of the reasons why this information is not made public,” CENTCOM spokesperson Vail A. Forbeck told The Intercept.

Undeterred, The Intercept launched its own investigation and developed a list of more than 60 U.S. bases, garrisons, or shared foreign facilities in the Middle East. These sites range from small combat outposts to massive air bases in 13 countries: Bahrain, Egypt, Iraq, Israel, Jordan, Kuwait, Lebanon, Oman, Qatar, Saudi Arabia, Syria, the United Arab Emirates, and Yemen.

At least 14 of these bases have been attacked in recent years. Since October 17, 2023, alone, a mix of one-way attack drones, rockets, mortars, and close-range ballistic missiles have led to at least 145 U.S. casualties — troops and contractors — at regional outposts including three service members killed in a January drone attack on Tower 22, a facility in Jordan.

“The indefinite U.S. military presences in Iraq, Syria, and around the region have near-zero genuine strategic value for the American people, but D.C. national security elites still think the risk is well worth it. Those concerned with the well-being of our service members — such as their families — are likely less comfortable with these soldiers being sitting ducks for local militias,” said Erik Sperling of Just Foreign Policy, an advocacy group critical of mainstream Washington foreign policy. “Americans who are tired of Mideast war should be worried about how these unauthorized hostilities effectively empower regional militias to draw the U.S. into an escalation any time they desire.”

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commandershepardvasfuckit · 2 months ago

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An Arranged Marriage, part 32

2.1k words

M!troll x f!reader

(I am feral over my own character, ask box is always open for talking about my writing or just monster fucking in general!)

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It was a warm and stagnant night sleeping at the little fishing outpost, but it was still better than sleeping out in the open like the night before. You and Zen stayed in a simple hut with a simple bed, but at least it was a roof over your head.

He woke you early the next morning to hop on a small boat with a few local fisherman who were sailing north. While boats were nothing new to you coming from a coastal kingdom with an impressive navy, this was barely meeting the definition for one. You sat on Zen’s lap on the floor and hung off the edge feeling sick for most of the trip. It was a relief hours later when the boat finally anchored and the two of you were able to clamor to shore. With no dock in sight, you were happy that at least that they were able to get pretty close to shore with how small the boat was.

Zen hopped off first, unfazed by wading through the shallows, and gave you his pack to keep dry before hoisting you up on his shoulders. Even carrying you while wading through the water he moved quickly.

By the time you reached the shore and had a quick lunch it was already midday. You were certain that the other day Zen had said it would still be a fair distance from where the fishermen would drop you off to his village, you were hoping that you could make it there soon.

“Will we get there tonight?” you asked

“Hm?” Zen asked back.

“To your village, will we get there by tonight?” you clarified.

“We should, as long as we do not stop much we can probably make it there a bit after sundown.”

“Thank the Light” you mumbled, you were not looking forward to the possibility of sleeping outside again.

The terrain had changed a lot in the time it took to sail here. The patchy trees and grasslands had long since given way to a sparse forest and that was now quickly giving way to jungle.

He led you into the tree line, along well worn footpaths and while you had been enjoying walking along the shore yesterday, the shade of the trees sure felt a lot nicer than the midday sun. Back in your kingdom you seldom left the walls of the city, though a few times you did get the chance to walk through the surrounding forests, this however was not even remotely similar. The trees here grew much taller, the color of everything was much brighter, everything was lush and new and exciting.

The path wound and forked its way deeper into the jungle, though Zen moved confidently, choosing which direction to go at each crossroads without hesitation. His pace was slow to match yours, just letting you take your time to experience everything and take it all in. Well, until the sun started getting low and he insisted carrying you the rest of the way at his pace so you could actually make it to his village before it got too dark.

Finally, as the sun was nearly set, you found yourself back along the shore with the soft glow of lights along the horizon farther up the coast. The closer you got, the more structures crept over the horizon and into view until you were able to get a fairly decent view of things.

“Zen, is that your village?” you asked.

“It is. We should be able to make it just a bit after nightfall” he answered.

“That’s your idea of a village?”

“What do you mean by that? Of course it is. Come on, we are close.”

He carried you for most of the rest of the way, only sitting you down when you squirmed as you got closer. Town or city would have been a much better descriptor, it was not at all the quaint little settlement you had been expecting. The city was bordered on one side by mountainous jungle and a large bay on the other, forming a crescent hugging the coast.

Zen was swarmed by people the moment the two of you got close enough to the edge of the city to be noticed. There was excitement buzzing in the air as more people gathered, chatted with him, and ushered the two of you farther into the city.

It was late, but the city was still bustling with people going about their business. Everything was colorful, from the people to the buildings, everything was rich and bright and it only made Zen stand out with how drab he was dressed.

“Is everything always so lively?” you asked him as you drew closer to the heart of the city. There were drums coming from up ahead and the sounds of people gathered.

“Most of the time” he shrugged, “But come, I’m sure by now someone has run off to tell my family we are here.”

By the time you reached the city center you had attracted quite a crowd. People offered you both food and drink, which was appreciated after eating travel rations. You sat with Zen around the fire in the central square and enjoyed you food and just watching him interacting with people. He was always stiff back at the capital, almost on guard, but not here. He was leaning back a bit, speaking cheerfully in his own tongue, not his formal orcish or human common. He was gesturing about with his hands and smiling while he spoke, and despite his drab clothes he actually seemed to fit in for once.

Zen always somewhat awkwardly stood out in the capital. Sure there were very few trolls there so all trolls stood out to a degree, but Bira and Ba’tual only stood out as much as any other troll while Zen constantly looked a bit uncomfortable and out of place. It was nice to finally see him so relaxed.

A voice rang out that caught his attention and caused him to bolt upright. You did not understand a word of it besides Zen’s name but he quickly stood up straight to greet whoever was walking up.

The woman stood eye level with him and the resemblance was nearly uncanny. Same lanky build, rich sapphire skin tone, shaggy green hair, and big green eyes.

You did not have to know what she was saying to recognize that Zen was getting chewed out by his mother. She tugged on his clothes and raised her brow, she ruffled his hair and seemed to have issues with it too.

Seemingly in an attempt to distract his mother from further picking him apart, Zen quickly tugged you up to stand by him and immediately her entire attitude changed.

Her facial expression softened as she placed her hands on your shoulders and just looked you over. She looked back to Zen and smiled as she spoke before giving you a hug and stepping back.

“My mother, Sahi” Zen introduced.

Automatically you curtsied, years of etiquette lessons and formalities drilled into you, which only made Sahi smirk.

She spoke with Zen for a moment and then turned back to you.

Zen quickly translated what she said, “She welcomes you to our home, and also family, and looks forward to getting to know you.”

You thanked her and happily spent time with Zen just enjoying seeing him so relaxed. People floated in and out: childhood friends, various relatives, what felt like the whole city.

You met Zen’s older brother Tuva, the current chief of tribe, and his younger sister Veli, a pearl diver.

Everyone was warm and welcoming, and you could not help but realize that Zen probably would not get the same open arms reception back at your kingdom as you got here.

You leaned against Zen, exhausted from traveling and just wanting a bath, but you were happy to sit with him as long as he wanted to stay there. The evening dragged on, eating and drinking until you saw the traces of purple on Zen’s cheeks from the alcohol.

“Having a good time?” you asked.

“It is nice to be back” he answered.

“Why did you wait so long to visit then?”

“It has been hard coming back, it stopped feeling like home many years ago” he said without elaborating and you did not push. It seemed like a sensitive subject.

Not long after the two of you made you way to where you were staying, a small home not far from the center of town. It was not much, just a sitting area and a small bathroom on the tiny lower level and a small loft bedroom with a second floor balcony. Just a simple wooden structure with a thatched roof and raised a few feet off the ground, but at least it was private to stay.

Zen must have seen the disappointment on your face when you looked into the small bathroom and there was no bathtub, “We can go to the bath house in the morning to wash up” he offered.

“Bath house?” you questioned.

“It is the easiest way to get hot water. They are dug into the cliff faces around at the edge of the village where the rivers are, we will go in the morning. I can get water from the well though so we can wipe off at least for now.”

You sat and waited while Zen went to go get some water. He helped you clean up, gently wiping down your arms and legs before helping you undress and clean up the rest of you. He looked exhausted, and was definitely a bit tipsy, but his expression was so soft as he looked up at you.

Gently you took the washcloth from him to return the favor. You let your hands linger longer than necessary on him, enjoying the vibrations from his purring while you cleaned up his chest. Just enjoying him. It had been a long two of traveling and even though you did not get the bath you were hoping for it was still nice just to share a moment together.

The ladder leading up to the little loft bedroom was steep, you climbed up slowly with Zen following behind you to catch you in case you slipped. As much as you usually loved the skin to skin contact of being snuggled up to Zen he always gave off so much body heat and it was unbearable now under the blanket on a hot, humid night. You shimmed away a bit and tossed the light blanket off of yourself, which only marginally made things better.

“Is everything alright?” Zen asked, sounded a bit worried.

“It’s just a bit to hot to be cuddling under a blanket” you explained.

“Oh” he seemed disappointed but tossed the blanket off himself and snuggled back up to you.

It was still too warm even like that. Back home on a cold desert night you loved how much heat he gave off, but here it was just miserable.

“Zen, its too hot” you protested. Outside earlier it had not been as bad with the breeze coming off the bay, but inside the warm, stagnant air was stifling.

He did not say anything at first, just got up and walked out onto the balcony for a moment before coming back in, “I have an idea” he offered you his hand to help you up.

The air outside felt much nicer as the two of you stepped out on to the balcony. You crouched a bit to keep yourself covered by the reed-woven rails, not wanting to accidentally flash anyone and especially not on your first day there. A simple hammock stretched across most of the small balcony and Zen beckoned you over to it.

He helped you lay down with him and pulled you on to his chest, “Is this better?” he asked.

You took a moment to skootch a little farther up his chest so you could nestle your face into the crook of his neck. As always h”is pulse was strong and slow just under skin, steady and unwavering. Laying like this was still pretty warm, but the breeze coming off the bay made Zen’s body heat bearable.

“Yeah” you trailed a few kisses along his neck and felt his pulse quicken for just a brief moment as you settled down to sleep.

--------

Part 33

Tag list

@blushycadaver @mochalyluv @hazyspacefairy @littlelovebug98 @tufflepuff23 @lets-imagineastory @emonatural191 @after-laughter-come-tears @krayziee @zaqnette @graveblanketgreen @lovingbadguys @nogoatsnoglori @bunnibabylilly @selfindulgenthoe @dij-ology @bl0odykittpawz

#monster fucker #teratophillia #monster lover #terato #monster x reader #monster smut #monster boyfriend #monster husband

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miss-musings · 9 months ago

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"The Bad Batch" Timeline: Explained

I've had some interesting conversations with folks on Twitter over the last few weeks about the timeline of "The Bad Batch" show: How much time passes between any given episodes? How old is Omega during S1 or S3? etc.

The short answer is that the entire show takes place over 18-24 months*

(*NOTE: All timeline discussion excludes the TBB epilogue at the end of episode 3.15 "The Cavalry Has Arrived.")

EDIT: I’m also calculating time based on Earth weeks/months/years. I recognize that time in the Star Wars universe likely varies from planet to planet, so I just want to clarify we’re going off IRL time calculations: 7 days to a week, ~30 days to a month, 12 months to a year. I’m also not referring to any external sources (except Wookieepedia, but that’s more to confirm the timeline than create it), so I don’t care what some guidebook says. I’m going based on what happens in the show itself.

Wookieepedia lists Hemlock's death as 18 BBY, so 12-24 months pass between 1.01 "Aftermath" in 19 BBY and Hemlock's death in the series finale.

However, the two biggest and clearest indications of how much time passes during the show is Mayday's comments in 2.12 "The Outpost" and Omega's tally marks in 3.01 "Confined."

In 2.12, Mayday says he's been posted on Barton IV for over a year, and based on his comments, he wasn't posted on Barton IV until after The Clone Wars ended. So, it's been at least a year -- but probably more like 14-15 months because Mayday says "over a year" -- since the events of 1.01 "Aftermath."

Then after the time-jump during 3.01, Omega has about 5.5 months of tally marks. Rounding up from when Crosshair was arrested and taken to Tantiss, about 6 months have passed since 2.12.

So, between those two indicators, at least 18 months have passed between 1.01 "Aftermath" and the end of 3.01 "Confined." But, realistically, it's probably been more like 20-21 months.

Then, the rest of S3 takes place over a pretty compressed timeframe, as no more than a few days seem to pass between episodes. I'll get into this more later, but I'm guessing that the end of 3.01 "Confined" to the big showdown on Tantiss in 3.15 "The Cavalry Has Arrived" takes place over the course of 1-2 months.

Again, it's confirmed that 18-24 months pass between the series premiere and the series finale.

But, my best guess is that the entire show takes place over 22-23 months based on in-universe clues.

THE SEASON 1 TIMELINE BREAKDOWN

Overall, I'm guessing that Season 1 takes place over the course of 4-6 months. I think this is much shorter than some people think, but it makes sense to me based on context clues.

1.01 "Aftermath" takes place over the course of a few days, and then 1.02 "Cut & Run" to 1.06 "Decommissioned" all seem to take place in a very compressed timeframe. No more than a day or two seems to pass between episodes, and no more than a day or two passes within each episode.

So, I'm thinking the end of 1.06 takes place about a month after 1.01.

Then we get our first notable time-jump between 1.06 and 1.07.

1.07 "Battle Scars" opens with the Bad Batch having done at least 10 more jobs for Cid since we last saw them in 1.06. (FYI: this is based on Omega and Wrecker's order of 20 cartons of Mantell Mix).

However Cid talks about the Corellia job like it wasn't too long ago, and if we average 2-3 days per job (which seems realistic based on what we see in the show), then about a month has passed between 1.06 and 1.07.

So, at the beginning of 1.07, I'm saying about two months have passed since 1.01 "Aftermath."

Then 1.08 "Reunion" and 1.09 "Bounty Lost" take place immediately after 1.07.

Skipping over 1.10, we get another notable time-jump between 1.09 "Bounty Lost" and 1.11 "Devil's Deal." The biggest indicator is Crosshair's recovery from his injuries on Bracca.

Assuming at least a month for him to recover and be stationed on Ryloth with Rampart & co., that means at least three months have passed between 1.01 "Aftermath" and 1.11 "Devil's Deal."

Even though we don't have any firm timeline, I don't think more than 2 months passed between 1.09 and 1.11, because everyone on Ryloth talks like it hasn't been that long since the Clone Wars ended.

Anyway, then 1.12 "Rescue on Ryloth" takes place immediately after 1.11.

Now, we know that 1.14-1.16 all take place over the course of a few days. So that just leaves us with how much time passes between 1.12 "Rescue on Ryloth" and 1.14 "War-Mantle."

Given that Rampart gave Crosshair permission to hunt down his brothers at the end of 1.12, I'm going to assume he wasn't looking for them that long. Rampart never complains that Crosshair's manhunt is wasting time, or that it's taking so long that they should abandon the effort. Plus, they were also busy decommissioning Tipoca City and the other Kaminoan facilities, so I imagine that took some time.

So, maybe 3-5 weeks (or another month) in all.

To recap, we have:

A month from 1.01 to 1.06

A month between 1.06 and 1.07

A month from 1.07 to 1.12

A month from 1.12 to 1.16

Overall, 4 months for sure, but 5-6 months seems a good estimate.

This would also account for how much time passes during the Bracca and Ryloth arcs, and gives more wiggle room on how long Crosshair's recovery process was. Maybe it took him two months to recover from Bracca and be assigned to Ryloth. Or maybe Crosshair was searching for his brothers for more than a month after Ryloth. Who knows?

EDIT/ADDITION: 4-6 months also seems to be a reasonable amount of time for the Empire to establish the Daro base with commandos like Gregor and Scorch, and then recruit, supply and train all the TK troopers we see in 1.14 "War-Mantle."

But, overall, I'm estimating the events of 1.16 "Kamino Lost" take place 5-6 months after 1.01 "Aftermath."

THE SEASON 2 TIMELINE BREAKDOWN

I'll tell you now: early Season 2 is where a lot of my guesses go out the window, because we get far fewer clues as to how much time passes between episodes.

Let's start with the time-jump between the end of Season 1 and the beginning of Season 2.

Based on Rampart and Crosshair's conversation in 2.03 "The Solitary Clone," Crosshair was stranded on Kamino for a month.

Given that he didn't have any food or water on him when his brothers left him on the platform, he must've been emaciated and dehydrated AF, even if he found some way to collect rainwater and/or catch fish. And Rampart said he needed to be "medically cleared" for active duty.

At least two months seems a good estimate. One month for Crosshair to be stranded; another month for him to recover. It's possible it was longer, though, I admit.

So, at the beginning of 2.03 "The Solitary Clone," we're at least 7 months removed from 1.01 "Aftermath."

Now, I actually think 2.03 takes place before 2.01/2.02. Story for another time, but it boils down to:

1) The creators would want to kick off Season 2 with a Bad Batch-centric episode not a Crosshair-centric episode, even if Crosshair’s episode takes place first chronologically; and

2) Rampart learns the Bad Batch is alive in 2.02, but never has Crosshair arrested or monitored as a potential spy or anything -- this only makes sense if Rampart finds out TBB is alive after Crosshair is cleared for duty and has proven his loyalty.

But, ultimately it doesn't matter:

Based on Mayday's comments in 2.12 "The Outpost," early Season 2 has to cover at least 7 more months. That means that months are passing between episodes in early S2.

In 2.12, Mayday says he's been stationed at the Outpost for over a year, and that he wasn't stationed there until after the war ended. So, assuming at least a month after the war for him to be reassigned, and then 13 months for him to be on Barton IV ... 2.12 has to take place at least 14 months after 1.01 "Aftermath."

So, ultimately, I think 2.01/2.02 might take place 3-4 months after the Fall of Kamino in 1.16 "Kamino Lost." It would allow enough time for the Bad Batch to get new clothes, repaint their old armor, and for Omega to start all of her studies while the Bad Batch continues to do jobs for Cid.

Then we probably have another month between 2.02 "Ruins of War" and 2.04 "Faster." Then another month to 2.05 "Entombed." And then another month to 2.06 "Tribe." And then another month to the beginning of 2.07 “The Clone Conspiracy.”

Because of how compressed the back-half of Season 2 is, I think 2.07/2.08 takes place about 13 months after the war ends in 1.01 "Aftermath" and, thus, about 7-8 months after the Fall of Kamino in 1.16 "Kamino Lost."

Now, once we get to 2.07, that's when the timeline starts compressing again based on in-universe clues.

We know 2.08 "Truth and Consequences" takes place almost immediately after 2.07. So, no more than a week seems to pass between the beginning of 2.07 and the end of 2.08.

Then, 2.09 "The Crossing" takes place a few days after 2.08, as Omega is still adjusting to Echo's absence. Then 2.10 "Retrieval" is immediately after 2.09, and 2.11 "Metamorphosis" takes place maybe a day after 2.10.

So, from the beginning of 2.07 to the end of 2.11, maybe two weeks have passed in-universe.

Then, at the beginning of 2.13 "Pabu," Cid remarks that it's been 20 rotations since she last talked to the Bad Batch in 2.11.

From 2.13 to 2.14, I'm guessing 1-2 weeks have passed based on how much of Pabu has been rebuilt since the sea surge and other context clues (like Shep and Hunter's conversation about the Bad Batch staying on Pabu).

Now, we're not exactly sure where 2.12 "The Outpost" falls in the S2 timeline. I'm guessing it's simultaneous with 2.13 "Pabu" for thematic and dramatic reasons, but we see all our various plot threads align in 2.14 "Tipping Point." Everything Echo, Crosshair and Hunter & co. do happens within 2-3 days.

Then, based on Echo's comments, we know 2.15 "The Summit" takes place two days after the Bad Batch's conversation at the end of 2.14 "Tipping Point." And then 2.16 "Plan 99" takes place immediately after 2.15.

So, while I can't speculate much on early S2, I can tell you that 2.07-2.16 spans about two months.

To recap:

2 months between 1.16 "Kamino Lost" and 2.03 "The Solitary Clone"

Several months between 2.01/2.02 and 2.07

A week during 2.07 and 2.08

A few days between 2.08 and 2.09

Another week during 2.09 to 2.11

Three weeks between 2.11 and 2.13

Two weeks between 2.13 and 2.14

A week during 2.14 to 2.16

But, overall, I'm estimating the events of 2.16 "Plan 99" take place 15-16 months after 1.01 "Aftermath."

THE SEASON 3 TIMELINE BREAKDOWN

Unlike the previous two seasons, Season 3 is very compressed. Outside of the time-jump within 3.01 "Confined," the entire season takes place over the course of 5-6 weeks. Not months. Weeks.

Now, again, I actually think 3.02 "Paths Unknown" takes place during the five-month time-jump within 3.01. But that doesn't really matter.

As we see from Omega's tally marks, the end of 3.01 takes place about 5.5 months after 2.16 "Plan 99." So, we have our between-seasons time-jump spelled out for us this time.

This means the end of 3.01 "Confined" takes place 21-22 months after 1.01 "Aftermath."

Skipping over 3.02, episode 3.03 "Shadows of Tantiss" seems to take place within a few days of the end of 3.01. We see that Omega is still being monitored closely after her outburst in the lurca kennels; and Hemlock told Nala Se in 3.01 that the Emperor would be arriving soon to check on their progress, which he does in 3.03. Heck, maybe 3.03 takes place the day after 3.01, but I’ll give a little wiggle room and say it’s been a few days.

Then, we know that the beginning of 3.03 to the end of 3.05 all takes place in a very short amount of time. Maybe a week.

3.04 "A Different Approach" takes place immediately after 3.03, and no more than a day or two passes between the end of 3.04 and the beginning of 3.05 "The Return."

So, from the end of 3.01 to the end of 3.05, two weeks have passed at most.

The gap between 3.05 and 3.06 is the only span of time in S3 we don't have any solid indicators about. It clearly wasn't too long, as Howzer talks about Crosshair escaping Tantiss like it happened fairly recently. Overall, I'd guess it's been maybe a week or two since Crosshair and Omega escaped Tantiss.

Then, 3.07 takes place immediately after 3.06.

Excluding 3.10 "Identity Crisis," we know that 3.08-3.11 all take place within a short amount of time. No more than 2-3 days seem to pass between episodes, and no more than 2-3 days passes within each episode. In total, I'd say these three episodes take place over the course of two weeks.

Thus, I'm guessing 4-5 weeks, or about a month, passes from the end of 3.01 "Confined" to the beginning of 3.11 "Point of No Return."

Then, we know the timeline between 3.11 and 3.15 is very short because all the episodes take place almost immediately after each other. The only exception is between 3.12 and 3.13, when maybe 12-24 hours passes based on Omega's movements in the Vault and her brothers' plans to infiltrate the orbital station.

You can round up and say a week, but that almost seems generous to me. Maybe a work week. Like the Empire invaded Pabu Monday night and Omega & co. were back on Pabu Friday morning.

Overall, I think the beginning of 3.11 "Point of No Return" to the end of 3.15 "The Cavalry Has Arrived" spans 3-5 days.

To recap:

5.5 months from the end of 2.16 "Plan 99" to the end of 3.01 "Confined"

A week from the end of 3.01 to the end of 3.05

A week between 3.05 and 3.06

Three weeks during 3.06 to 3.11

A week during 3.11 to 3.15

Again, outside of the time-jump within 3.01, the entirety of Season 3 takes place over 1-2 months if we're looking at the larger post-"Aftermath" timeframe.

Overall, I'm estimating the showdown on Tantiss and Hemlock's death in 3.15 "The Cavalry Has Arrived" takes place about 22-23 months after 1.01 "Aftermath."

We know it's not more than 24 months after the war ends, because Wookieepedia would list Hemlock's death in 17 BBY instead of 18 BBY. So no more than 24 calendar months can pass between "The Bad Batch" series premiere and series finale.

But, accounting for things that happen within the show, 22-23 months seems about right. Like, it's been almost two calendar years, but not quite.

So, to give a real-world example, if Palpatine gave his "Revenge of the Sith" speech to reorganize the Republic into the Galactic Empire on Jan. 1, 2022, then the big showdown on Tantiss takes place in October or November 2023.

That means:

If Omega was 12 years old when her brothers met her on Kamino, she was 13-14 during the showdown on Tantiss.

After his inhibitor chip activated, Crosshair was separated from his brothers for more than 18 months before finally reconciling with them in 3.05 "The Return."

The Bad Batch worked for Cid for over a year, and she still betrayed them.

Phee and Tech's ~situationship~ might've lasted half-a-year between their first meeting in 2.01 "Spoils of War" and his death in 2.16 "Plan 99."

Howzer and his men from Ryloth were in prison for almost a year before Echo & co. broke them out in 2.14 "Tipping Point."

When Crosshair sent the Plan 88 message, the Bad Batch hadn't seen or heard from him in ~10 months (since the Fall of Kamino).

Omega only got to spend 15-16 months with Tech before his death in 2.16 “Plan 99.” 😭

Crosshair hadn't seen his brothers for over a year between the Fall of Kamino and escaping Tantiss with Omega.

Omega and Crosshair only spent about 7 months together during the show (5.5 on Tantiss and 1.5 after their escape), and most of that was off-screen. 🙁

Apparently, more time passed between S1 and S2 than during S3 (excluding the time jump and epilogue). Seriously. From the end of 3.01 to the final showdown on Tantiss, the Bad Batch had a very insane and stressful 5-6 weeks. They all looked like they could use a nap in that final group shot under the tree, and I don't blame them!

All the clones (except Omega) aged 3-4 biological years over the course of the show. So, if Hunter & co. were biologically 22 when they met Omega on Kamino, they'd be around 25-26 when they finally settle down on Pabu.

Not sure how this will help people, but I wanted to share it because I've been thinking about how insane this show's timeline — how loosey-goosey it is in some places while being super-rigid in others.

So, enjoy!

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clementine-writes-things · 2 months ago

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MacCready Headcanons (SFW)

A/N: My headcanons are always really long and detailed bc I love making them. So, sorry if this one is really long. I love MacCready.

Personality:

He is smart when it comes to survival, but not when it comes to robotics or science. In situations like that, he's the equivalent of a drooling baby.

Super sarcastic. He tends to "lighten" tense situations with humor. He'll see a group of raiders/super mutants/etc and say shit like "Oh, well here comes the welcome wagon!"

Even though he is only 22, he has been through a lot of shit. Because of this, he isn't easily trusting of others, and he is very reserved. He is always suspicious of people until they give him a reason not to be.

MacCready isn't really arrogant, but he knows he's dangerous. He knows he's a good shot. If someone pisses him off, he'll inform them of this fact by subtly revealing the pistol on his hip.

"Wanna watch your tone?"

Once you further your friendship/relationship with him, he'll become more and more comfortable with opening up, and he'll show concern/care for you more. However, if you aren't that close, he simply does not give a fuck.

He's not insanely tall (5'10), but he's still intimidating when in his presence. It's hard to explain, but his "resting face" is piercing. It's like he's staring into your soul...

He's very desensitized to death because he saw so much when he ran with the gunners, but he hates seeing people in pain.

He's horrible with small talk, tells terrible jokes, and can be an asshole (though, he doesn't mean to be)

When you get close with him, he can be pretty protective. It's sad, but ever since Lucy, he's felt like a failure for not being able to save her. So, whenever there is an opportunity to help you, he jumps at it.

Once your relationship is strong, he doesn't like it when you travel without him. It's not because he's jealous, but because he's worried something bad will happen when he's not with you. He doesn't want you to end up like Lucy...

HUGE piner. The more he travels with you, the more he grows fond of you. He'll find himself thinking of you, even if you're not with him.

He'll hear a song on the radio and think "this reminds me of them"

This man is extremely violent when he needs to be. He'll threaten people, and his threats are ALWAYS promises. He isn't afraid to kick someone's ass, especially if they are a piece of shit.

Hobbies:

Collects comics. Specifically, Grognak The Barbarian. He knows everything about them and nerds out if he finds a comic.

When he isn't traveling with you, he chills at a settlement and listens to Diamond City radio while modifying his weapons.

Because he was a farmer for a little while, he likes to tend to crops in his free time. It reminds him of Duncan and Lucy.

He taught himself how to read back in the Capital Wasteland, and he'll occasionally read old books he finds.

Random:

He literally hates Radroaches so much. They make him so uncomfortable. Gags whenever he sees one.

His favorite colors are mossy green and sunset orange.

Believe it or not, he actually takes care of himself. He bathes (when he gets an opportunity), brushes his teeth when he can find toothpaste, and brushes his hair everyday.

Misses Little Lamplight so much. Sometimes, if he's at a settlement, he'll sleep in a cave near it, or sleep with blankets covering his head to mimic the darkness.

Random Things He'd Say/Do:

(Sees a tripwire, nearly activating the trap. He clutches a hand to his chest.) "My heart just fell to my as-, uh...let's keep going..."

(Stops walking to look at a bird, eyes narrowing.) "Think it'd taste good?"

(Stubs toe and bites on his tongue. Instead of cussing, he lets out a shaky breath, putting his head against the wall.) "Ouch."

(Y/n trips, making MacCready roll his eyes.) "Jesus, stay aware of your surrou-" (Trips and faceplants.)

(Y/n and MacCready are at a trading outpost. It's clear that the trader is trying to swindle y/n. MacCready takes a drag from his cigarette, pointing it at the trader.) "You want me to snuff this out in your eye, dude? Stop dicking around with us."

#writers #fanfic writer #writers of tumblr #fanfic #fo4 #fallout 4 #maccready #rj maccready #robert joseph maccready #fallout 4 maccready

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girlactionfigure · 9 months ago

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jewishlifenow

This woman in the picture is a hero. Meet Captain Yuval, an infantry commander. On the morning of October 7th, she dashed into action, wearing only pajamas but armed with courage. She encountered an apocalyptic scene, where terrorists approached on motorcycles. With unwavering resolve, she eliminated two of them. Her superiors were unreachable - they too had fallen. With Captain Ron, they established an impromptu command center, directing forces to eliminate 22 terrorists and secure two critical outposts, all while in their pajamas!

Via @inbar_cohen95

#Israel #October 7 #HamasMassacre #💪🇮🇱#Heros

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duranduratulsa · 4 months ago

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Now showing on DuranDuranTulsa's Television 📺 Showcase...The Walking Dead: Outpost 22 (2022) on Netflix #tv #television #horror #drama #TheWalkingDead #outpost22 #nightofthelivingdead #georgeromero #ripgeorgeromero #Zombies #2020s #Netflix #durandurantulsa #durandurantulsastelevisionshowcase

#tv #television #horror #drama #the walking dead #outpost 22 #night of the living dead #george romero #rip george romero #zombies #2020s #Netflix #duran duran tulsa's television showcase #duran duran tulsa #Spotify

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last-sprout · 9 months ago

Note

I know you said you couldn’t pick a favourite plant, but do you have a least favourite plant? one that just really grosses/freaks you out?

Truly, honestly, I think all plants are wonderful! Seeing any splash of green in a world of greys makes my day, I still feel so lucky that here in my workspace I can be surrounded by that greenery all day.

But, that’s not to say that there aren’t weird and gross plants! Titan Arum was also called the Corpse Flower (ooooo how spooky). It would emit an odour like decaying flesh, I can imagine that creeping anybody out. I don’t think I could manage with a smell like that in such a confined space like this!

Or for an extant species, Hydnellum peckii is a kind of fungus that looks like it’s a bleeding, oozing, tooth. Gross right! I managed to see an amazing sample before, during my studies. The biology central back at CRADLE is the closest I imagine I will personally get to touring something like the Natural History Museum. Such an incredible, living archive.

#22:58 21ST OCT #EXTERNAL CONDITION: STORM (REMAIN INDOORS)#INTERNAL CONDITION: OUTPOST DISCONNECTED FROM NETHERMOST STATION. BACKUP GENERATOR AT 87%.#C:BIO/SPROUT/LOGIN/GREEN_THUMB/INBOX[GENERAL]

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good-old-gossip · 1 month ago

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Israeli are the REAL THIEVES & BLOODTHISTY TERRORISTS of WEST ASIA

Israel has approved the construction of 22 new settlements in the occupied West Bank, including at previously dismantled sites.

The announcement will also include the formalisation of nine already constructed settlements, including the Homesh outpost, built on the site of another settlement evacuated in 2005.

According to Haaretz, the decision was approved by the government two weeks ago, but the announcement was delayed until this week.

One planned settlement is set to be built on Mount Ebal near Nablus, the location of what Israeli settlers claim is the altar of Biblical figure Joshua.

“This is a great day for the settlement and an important day for the State of Israel,” wrote Finance Minister Bezalel Smotrich on X on Thursday.

“Through dedicated effort and persistent leadership, we have succeeded, thank God, in creating a profound strategic change, returning the State of Israel to a path of construction, Zionism, and vision.”

In the past few days, Israel’s strategic affairs minister warned Britain and France that Israel may annex parts of the West Bank if they recognise a Palestinian state, according to Israeli newspaper Haaretz.

Since the beginning of the war on Gaza in October 2023, both the Israeli military and settlers have carried out hundreds of attacks across the West Bank resulting in the deaths of hundreds of Palestinians.

According to data from the Colonization and Wall Resistance Commission, settlers carried out 231 acts of vandalism and theft of Palestinian property in the West Bank during April.

These attacks affected large areas of land, resulting in the uprooting of 1,168 olive trees.

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vivid-ink · 2 years ago

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'The Love Shack'

Part III - Blurring Lines

Relationship: Neteyam(23) x fem!Omatikaya reader(21) x Lo'ak(22)

Part III Summary:

You've spent weeks now, meeting with Neteyam & Lo'ak at the old outpost to play... You enjoy them both, but your feelings for Neteyam are becoming harder to ignore. And unbeknownst to you, Neteyam is finding it difficult to share you too... He wants you all to himself, away from his brother and away from other prying eyes...

Read Part I - The Proposition HERE

Read Part II - Three is a Perfect Crowd HERE

Warnings: Adult content 18+ MDNI

Word count: 12.9k

Content: Mentions of group sex, MMF threesome, smut, sex toy play, squirting, anal fingering

Author's Note:

Greetings my lovely thirsty peeps! Here is Part III. The narrative is getting more emotional/angsty now too with all those secretly repressed feelings. But I hope ya'll still brought your 'thirst-gear' along because you'll need it towards the end of this part. Enjoy, my lovelies! 😘

Taglist: @teymars @eyweveng @leaveitbythewave @luvteyams @akiras-key @bajbr @qcswrites @reggiesslut @neteluvr @savvysscandles @dasaniix @emery-333 @vintaqestar @live-laugh-neteyam @itssomeonereading @strawberry-vamp0 @clairevoyancee @delacruzyari @bluecooki3 @aalex561-blog @frustrated-kitten @innercreationflower @wolf12thsworld @wheneclipsefalls @iameatingmyhair @ele-sme @investedreader @oasiswithmyg @daeneeryss @pandorxxx @anonka01 @hunbomb @pandoraslxna @adrianarose7 @sunghoonmyluv @notnat02 @getthisoverwith33 @simp4myself @spicymayyo @animehoe1-800 @daddysmurfslefttoenail @iman-lu @creepytoes88 @flyingspacewhale @neteyamswifesworld @lostress101 @nilsavatar @cloudyw1ndzz @itsjazzsworld @solemnlover @asweetblueberry2 @blue-slxt @slutforderekhale @swaggygurlbae @c-h-i-l @justonesadlonelymoth @itchaboi-itchyboy @ntymavtr

Note: A reminder that I don't use the term 'Y/N' so the reader's name in this is 'Neyomi'. The name is not used often, only when stylistically required.

***~~~***

You were doing a commendable job of maintaining the status quo during the daytimes, Neteyam had to admit. Calm and collected, your face ever inscrutable, nothing in your behaviour betrayed any trace of the clandestine contract you’d entered into with him and Lo’ak.

For many weeks now you’d stolen away once a week to the old outpost for your private ménage à trois with him and his brother, where you would very successfully abandon all your inhibitions and fall prey to their various ministrations. You would tangle with them both, giving and receiving pleasure until you were limp and mewling like a milk-gorged kitten. But come daybreak, when you fell in with the rest of the warriors for the morning briefing, there was no hint of the carnal nights you shared with them, not even the barest acknowledgement.

Unlike the other women, there were no demure glances or hushed giggles from you. You were purely professional.

You were so good at it that the morning after the very first night, when Neteyam had received nothing more from you than the usual dip of your head and a steady ‘good morning sir’, he’d believed for several surreal moments that he’d dreamt up the nirvana of the previous night. That is, until Lo’ak had looked from you to him and flashed him a wayward smirk that spoke of his own amusement at your cool behaviour.

Lo’ak had made it his life’s mission then to try to goad a reaction from you in public. However, you remained stoic, even pulling rank on him several times to make him behave during hunts and patrols. Then you’d threatened him on your second visit to the outpost with a firm warning that if he couldn’t keep what happened in the outpost at the outpost, that you’d end the arrangement and never return.

That had nipped Lo’ak’s jibing in the bud immediately. Your behaviour had remained a fascinating contradiction ever since. Aloof during the days, but a wanton little plaything during your nights with them…

To anyone else, you were just as you always were. Hell, Neteyam didn’t even know if you’d told your best friend, Tula… Tula certainly didn’t appear to know, based on the fact that she often told him and Lo’ak during group visits that she was still trying to convince you to come along. There had not been a single crack in your façade.

Until today.

It had been almost imperceptible, but Neteyam had caught it straight away: The clench of your jaw and the tight swallow that bobbed down your slender throat in reaction to the other woman’s words. You turned away, busying yourself with your own pa’li.

“What do you say, warrior? Tonight?” Silwey’s coquettish voice crooned beside him. Her warm palm smoothed in a slow slide up his arm to squeeze at his bicep while she pressed her side provocatively up against him.

Neteyam chuckled, undoing the ties and buckles of his pa’li’s saddle. It was a very bold move by a woman to be making such an uninhibited suggestion in such a communal setting as the pa’li pen, especially to the future olo’eyktan, but he had history with Silwey.

“It’s been a long day,” Neteyam muttered indecisively with a cock of his head, “Aren’t you tired?”

Silwey scoffed and bumped her hip against his, “Not too tired. Besides, we know stamina isn’t an issue for you.”

Though your back was turned to them as you attended to your own direhorse, Neteyam could hear your fingers working with the buckles of your own saddle. It wasn’t the usual slow and composed clink and slide of fabric against metal. It sounded like your fingers were fumbling testily with the material, the buckles rattling noisily.

A corner of his lips quirked upward. You were not so unbothered after all, it seemed…

Neteyam enjoyed the group liaisons at the old outpost, but it was true what the whispers said. He mostly liked to watch and maybe join in with his hands, lips and tongue, but it wasn’t often that he had sex with someone. He was selective like that and he didn’t like to share his playmates. He left the playboy behaviour to Lo’ak, who was more than happy to indulge the women in full use of his body.

There were only a few exceptions for Neteyam, over whom he tended to be fairly possessive. Silwey was one of them, as were you…

When Neteyam’s lack of response dragged on for several seconds longer than she liked, Silwey stroked a brazen hand over his chest and her voice turned husky to cajole him, “Come on, Neteyam. It was fun last time when it was just you and me, away from any audience.”

A muffled curse and a dull thud sounded as you dropped something.

Out of the corner of his eye, Neteyam saw you quickly stoop to pick up what you’d dropped before you shot upright again, proceeding to stride away in the next moment. You appeared very eager to get away before you had to endure any more of his exchange with Silwey.

Turning his full attention to the waiting female at his side, Neteyam regarded Silwey with apologetic eyes, “Can we take a raincheck on this? I’m quite sore after today’s patrol.”

Disappointment coloured Silwey’s expression and she pouted slightly, “Alright. Well you know where to find me if you change your mind.” She shot him a seductive wink and turned to leave with a deliberate sashay of her hips.

Silwey was an incredibly beautiful woman. A warrior too, her physique was lithe with toned muscle and shapely in all the right places. Her face was similarly pleasing. However, there was an air of conceitedness about her and she liked to be in control in matters of sensual play. Neteyam had found her sexual confidence extremely appealing at first, and he’d enjoyed grappling for dominance with her during their liaisons, but his encounters with her lacked a certain sincerity of connection.

Especially after their one private evening together away from the outpost, it was becoming clear to Neteyam that what Silwey appeared to enjoy most about being with him was being in control of him. She relished dominating him. She wasn’t fond of that role being reversed though and so she never submitted fully to him at any point in return.

She certainly didn’t surrender or abandon herself as wholly as you did when you were with him… And the complete and utter vulnerability you displayed was what really made Neteyam’s blood heat with lust.

Neteyam watched your retreating figure in the distance. He noted the darker cobalt of the stripes that lined your thighs and remembered the smooth feel of them beneath his lips. He watched as the long strides of your legs made your hips sway, accentuating the luscious curves of your pert bottom as you walked. He couldn’t see your face now, but his brain supplied a lusty memory of your beautiful face contorted in bliss, lips parted and mouth slack as you moaned beneath him.

He wasn’t keen on a private evening away with Silwey, but you… You were a different story. His mind yearned and his body ached to get you alone. You, he wouldn’t mind sequestering away somewhere all to himself without having to share you with anyone.

“I know that look.” Lo’ak sauntered up to him, adjusting his bow which he’d slung across his torso. “It’s the look of someone who’s been offered a sweet treat, but not of the flavour they’re craving.”

Walking to return his pa’li’s saddle to the storage rack, Neteyam cast his brother a wry grin over his shoulder, “Yeah well, some of us have a more sophisticated palate, bro.”

“I believe the simple term you’re looking for is ‘fussy’.” Lo’ak countered, giving the whickering direhorse an affectionate stroke of farewell down its muzzle before jogging to catch up with Neteyam.

A group of young fisherwomen passed them, twittering with bashful hands over their mouths. Lo’ak addressed them with a wink and blew them a kiss. He crowed at his older brother, “And the good thing about not being fussy is that you always eat well.”

Chortling at his brother’s flirtatious conduct, Neteyam rolled his eyes, “And the bad thing about people who aren’t fussy is that they’re often also greedy.”

“Ahh, I see. You want me to be a bit less involved next time Neyomi comes round, do you? I’ll just warm her up for you, eh?” Lo’ak waggled his eyebrows and jabbed his elbow several times into his brother’s ribs, “Then I’ll just kick back and watch, because by Eywa, she’s so beautiful when she comes undone.”

Neteyam couldn’t suppress the grunt of displeasure that left him at his brother’s words. He didn’t even want Lo’ak looking at you, if he was honest… He wanted you all to himself. He wanted your kisses to grace his lips only. He wanted the forbidden taste of your sweet flesh tantalising his tongue and no one else’s, and he wanted the sight of your writhing body for his eyes and his eyes alone.

“How about you just sit out entirely?” Neteyam spat with a jeer, though there was a jesting undertone to his voice.

Lo’ak hooted with laughter and blew a low whistle out on his next exhale. He clucked his tongue and shook his head, “Nope, no can do, bro. I’m going to change the name of the outpost from ‘The Love Shack’ to ‘The Sharing Shack’. Sharing is caring and those who won’t share aren’t welcome.”

The brothers were closing in on their family’s shelter now and they were careful to lower their voices. The last thing they needed was for their father or, Eywa forbid, their mother to discover their libidinous evening activities. Although, people loved to chin-wag and it seemed unlikely that their father hadn’t at least heard rumours. Perhaps their father was just closing a blind eye to things…

“Just because I don’t like to share, doesn’t mean I won’t. I know she enjoys playing with you too.” Neteyam muttered peevishly, narrowing his eyes and fixing Lo’ak with a pointed look.

Lo’ak smirked at his brother through keen amber eyes, “You just want a little bit on the side for yourself. You’ve got it bad for her.” At Neteyam’s scowl, Lo’ak snickered and aimed another playful sock at him, “It’s alright, I got you, bro.”

***~~~***

A droning hum of voices infused the atmosphere around you while the gathered clan members filled their bellies and socialised over a shared evening meal. The radiant heat of the communal bonfire was usually a welcome sensation against your skin as it provided a soothing contrast to the chill of the evening air. However, the warmth of the fire prickled irritatingly against you tonight.

You were in a cantankerous mood and you struggled to get comfortable, either feeling too hot closer to the fire or too cold if you moved farther away from it. Your sour disposition had put a damper on your appetite too, and you picked grouchily at the mixture of grains, roasted vegetables and morsels of sturmbeest meat on your food mat in front of you.

It was your arrow that had felled the fat sturmbeest cow for tonight’s meal. Ordinarily you’d be beaming with pride, but tonight you just wanted to sulk. It was immature and petty of you - plus you knew you also had no real right - but you wanted to wallow in your crankiness.

And it was all thanks to Silwey.

You’d never had anything against the other young woman. In fact, she was a well-respected hunter and you’d partnered with her very successfully on several occasions. She was confident, skilled and friendly enough. There was literally no reason for you to hold any animosity towards Silwey and the only reason you felt this way now was because you’d overheard her proposition to Neteyam.

He’s not yours… Your conscience warned. The arrangement you have with him and Lo’ak is purely physical…

But the knowledge that Silwey had been with Neteyam privately on her own was a thorn in your side, and you felt viscid, green envy roil in the pit of your stomach. You knew Neteyam was selective of the women he took fully as lovers. The gossiping murmurs amongst the other women about this fact was evidence of this, and Neteyam had even told you so himself. So, he must have taken a keen enough liking to Silwey to have sought her out on her own in the past.

You felt your already black mood turn even blacker.

Tula nudged your side with an elbow, forcing you from your critical thoughts, “Your face looks like a thunder cloud. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, sister.” You fibbed, refusing to meet her eyes.

This was another undesired consequence of your secret arrangement with the two Sully brothers. You and Tula had been joined at the hip since childhood and you never kept secrets from each other, but now you did. Part of it was your stubborn pride at not wanting to admit to your best friend that you had caved in the end and succumbed to the brothers’ charms. Another part was you selfishly wanting to keep your exclusive arrangement with Neteyam and Lo’ak under wraps.

No one else had their own dedicated evening alone with the brothers. All the other women participated in the weekly group sessions with whoever else that went along. And for the last several weeks you’d felt privileged, special even, especially knowing that Neteyam didn’t just fuck any and every woman that came across his path. But your newfound discovery about his solo tryst with Silwey was upsetting.

“I know you’re lying.” Tula pressed, uncrossing her legs where she was seated to shuffle in front of you, “I know you like the back of my own hand and you can’t fool me.”

Chewing on your bottom lip while a furrow pulled a deep knit between your brows, you groused, “Wasn’t trying to fool you, but it doesn’t mean I want to talk about it either.”

A sigh huffed out of Tula and she took your fidgeting hands in hers, “Ok, but it’s nothing bad, right? Like, it’s not serious? You know you can tell me anything. I won’t judge you.”

The concern in your friend’s voice was touching and your ears pricked upward, your eyes following suit to look at Tula. With a discomfited laugh you shook your head, “No, it’s not anything serious. It really is nothing, actually. It’s dumb and you don’t need to worry.”

Tula tried one last time, “If it’s dumb then you can definitely tell me.”

“No, I don’t want to talk about it.” Your words were firm and your tone unyielding.

Sensing that you wouldn’t budge, Tula relented, “Alright. Well if you’re not going to eat anymore of that food then we might as well make a move. Come back to mine and I’ll rub your shoulders and re-braid your hair? You look like some tender loving care might lift your mood.”

Rolling your shoulders and testing the sore muscles, you knew that one of Tula’s wonderful massages would help, but your pride obstinately insisted on licking its petty wounds and so you declined. “Thanks, but I’m tired and I’m just going to wash and call it a night.”

Shooting you a dubious expression, Tula gave a weary sigh and leant forward to buss your cheek with a kiss, “Ok, goodnight sister, sleep well. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Your murmured your own farewell and watched as your friend left the gathered throng of people. Deciding it best for you to get going too, you looked at the bits and bobs of your remaining dinner. Not wanting to feel like an ingrate for wasting good food, you gathered what was left and ate it all. Gingerly rolling the food mat up, you got up and tucked it into the washing basket with a brief smile of thanks at the people who were on cleaning duty tonight.

You passed a cluster of warrior women on your way out and they called out their ‘goodnights’ to you. You noted that Silwey wasn’t among them and your brain unhelpfully supplied the bitter thought that she was likely off frolicking with Neteyam.

Your shoulders ached and you rolled them again with a grimace as you slowly ambled your way back towards the clan’s assemblage of home shelters that were scattered among the upper boughs and branches of the large woodland trees. The air was chilly and only the soft chirruping of nightlife accompanied you as you walked onward. Your plan was to head to the bathing springs, wash the grime of the day away, and then settle down to sleep with the hope that your mind wouldn’t keep you awake with agonising musings of what Neteyam and Silwey were doing.

Your ears twitched then, swivelling backward at the dull sound of thudding footsteps approaching you from behind.

“Sore, are you?” Lo’ak queried, stopping to stand at your side. He grinned when you turned to acknowledge him, the whites of his teeth glinting in the dim moonlight.

“That talioang cow was a heavy haul to bring in, so yes, my shoulder and back muscles are making their complaints known.” You didn’t need to look around him or over his shoulder to see that his older brother was not with him.

“It was a good kill. The clan thanks you for your service.” Lo’ak cocked his head to the side, regarding you with his signature smirk, “Can I help make you feel better? I’m happy to give you a nice rub down. You know, ease all that tension from your body.”

You barked out a laugh and threw him a cynical look, “Why do I get the sense that your rub down will end up more like a hump down?”

Lo’ak’s grin turned naughty and he snickered, “Hey, if that’s what you want, sweet thing, I won’t say no.”

You contemplated his offer, really thought about it. He was still wearing his cummerbund around his torso and you took a moment to enjoy the way it hugged his abdomen like a second skin, framing his ribs and accentuating the narrowing of his hips nicely. Your eyes dipped to the dark green loincloth that hung from his hips and a part of you was tempted. You knew, intimately, what hid behind that loincloth and you knew that the experience would be pleasurable if you spent the evening with Lo’ak. But when you closed your eyes and pictured yourself kissing him, it was Neteyam’s face that swam behind your eyelids.

With a quiet exhale you shook your head, “Thanks, but no thanks. I turned down Tula’s offer of a shoulder rub just now too.”

Lo’ak’s tail was swishing in a slow arc behind him and he was watching you intently. A toothy smile played across his lips and you sensed a cheeky jab on the horizon, “It’s OK, I get it. Wrong brother asking.”

Irritation flashed through you at his comment. You were really starting to hate the way he kept calling you out like that. It was difficult enough having to confront your own feelings, but it was much worse when someone else pointed them out.

You snapped at Lo’ak, “You need to stop that. If you will recall, I quite happily enjoy both of you during our get-togethers, so it wouldn’t make a difference who asks. I just want to bathe and head home tonight.”

Great Mother, you were turning into a such a liar… you would have accepted without hesitation if the offer had come from Neteyam…

“Alright, alright, I’m just teasing. I’ve genuinely got a suggestion that might help though.”

You raised a doubtful brow at him, your silence urging him to continue.

“There’s a small hot spring near my family’s home shelter. It’s in a secluded area behind it, away from the main village pathway.” Lo’ak broached genially, “The water’s warm and it’s great for soothing sore muscles. You’re welcome to bathe there if you want?”

“You have a private hot spring?” You queried in astonishment. There were a few hot springs in the nearby woodlands, but they were communal and there were often other people there. Having a private one so close to home was a real indulgence.

“Perks of being in the olo’eyktan’s family.” Lo’ak gave a casual shrug of his shoulders, “My parents picked that spot to build our family’s shelter at because of it.”

A hot soak and bath sounded absolutely divine, and a private spring meant you’d have some peace and quiet to yourself too. “Are you sure? I don’t want to be using it if it’s just meant for your family.”

“Nah, it’s fine. We’ve had friends over before and my parents are out tonight anyway. Come on, I’ll take you there.”

Enticed by the promise of the hot spring, you readily followed Lo’ak. You were familiar with where the Sullys’ home was, but as he led you round behind it, you glimpsed a mossy pathway that led down between the verdant flora towards a formation of rocks. Sure enough, you could see there was a pool in the formation’s centre, partially obscured by the taller rocks surrounding it.

The environment became humid as you approached the mouth of the spring, the hot water sending small plumes of steam into the air. You breathed out a sigh of wonderment at the sight before you. It was actually bigger than you’d initially thought.

The hot spring was surrounded on most sides by the high rocks, giving the space a lovely sense of seclusion. There was another set of tall boulders that parted the spring down the middle too and, though you couldn’t see it from where you were, you presumed it would lead to another part of the spring round the corner. On the adjacent side from where you stood, there was a bank with a bed of plush, bioluminescent moss. It looked like the perfect place to just sit and dip your feet in if that’s all one wanted to do.

You beamed at Lo’ak appreciatively, “This is lovely, thank you.”

“There are some bath and cleansing oils in a little basket over there on the bank. My sisters are morning bathers so they won’t be needing the spring now. You can enjoy your privacy.” Lo’ak stated with a smile, followed by a muted titter which he tried to disguise rather poorly as a cough.

“What? Why are you laughing?”

He waved you off, turning around and beginning to make his way back up the path, “No, it’s nothing.”

Arms akimbo as you watched him leave, you hissed, “You’re being weird. There better not be any nasty surprises in there!”

Lo’ak scoffed, stopping in his tracks to look at you, “No, of course not.” Although there was still that telltale mischievous twinkle in his eyes that you didn’t altogether trust. He shook his head at your apparent doubt and he gestured towards the steaming spring, “You’re safe here, don’t worry. There are no strangers here.”

With a reassuring smile, Lo’ak left you to it and carried on up the distance of the path until you saw him disappear into his family’s shelter.

Left alone now, you peered out into the darkness of the hot spring before you. The higher temperature of the water meant that not much lived in and around the spring. There were no fish or florae that dwelled beneath the water’s surface and apart from the gentle glow of the moss and phosphorescent lianas that lined the rocks, there wasn’t much light at all.

Stepping forward slowly, you let the warm water of the spring greet your toes, which wriggled and curled in delight at the soothing heat. You smiled a small smile to yourself, very much looking forward to your impending hot bath. You unclothed yourself, shimmying out of your chest-covering and loincloth before folding the garments neatly and stepping to the side to drape them over a boulder. You paused then when you noticed another folded loincloth tucked against the rocks.

Odd… Lo’ak had reassured you that no one was here…

Shrugging lightly, you supposed another of the family had left it behind earlier in the day and thought nothing more of it, eager to immerse yourself in the steaming spring that beckoned. With small steps, you submerged yourself little by little, sighing as the blissful warmth of the spring water enveloped your knees, thighs, hips and navel until you reached maximum depth and it pooled just under the rounds of your breasts.

Oh, by Eywa, the temperature was perfect. The water was hot but not too hot as to be uncomfortable and you could already feel it easing the tightness in your leg muscles. Wading through the dark water towards the basket of bath oils on the bank, you gingerly picked through several vessels, uncapping them and giving each one a sniff as you tried to decide which you liked best. They all smelled wonderful, some fruity, some floral and all a luxurious treat for the skin and senses.

A very familiar scent wafted to your nose when you uncapped the last vessel; spicy and nutty, with a hint of the woodland trees. You recognised it immediately. Neteyam. This was the bath oil he used regularly. Your mind was made up in that instant, selection made.

Bending your knees, you submerged yourself to your chin to wet your body all over, before gracefully lifting yourself out of the water to perch on the mossy bank so you could rub the oil into your skin. The oil was wonderfully fragrant and glossy on your wet skin as you massaged it over your arms, torso, breasts, tail and legs. A contented moan bubbled up your throat and you giggled to yourself, smoothing the oil up your neck and then over your face too.

Oh, it smelled so good and it reminded you so much of Neteyam…

Something sharp pricked in your chest when your conscience reminded you that he was off in the company of Silwey tonight, and you sniffed sullenly before you mentally chastised yourself. You resolved to put it out of your mind and just be grateful for this wonderful hot spring. The scent of the oil tickled your nostrils again, bringing with it more unbidden thoughts of Neteyam. Perhaps choosing the oil he used wasn’t the smartest idea after all... You’d go to bed smelling like him tonight and it was just going to keep reminding you of him.

Satisfied with your efforts of smoothing the bath oil all over yourself, you slipped off the mossy bank back into the warm water to soak. Your tightly braided cornrows wouldn’t need a proper wash for another few days yet, so you cupped water in your hands and dribbled it over your head to give your hair a simple rinse. Gingerly, you washed your face in a similar fashion, moaning quietly in enjoyment.

So absorbed were you in relishing your bath that you failed to notice the glowing pair of eyes watching you soundlessly through the steam from around the corner of tall boulders in the spring.

Your voyeur smirked to himself. He was surprised to find you here. He was going to have to thank his brother later…

Deciding he’d done enough covert watching, Neteyam carefully shifted off his rocky perch beneath the water to submerge himself further. His moral scruples censured him that continuing to watch you bathe naked when you were unaware of his presence was wrong. He resolved to make himself known, but he was going to have some fun doing it.

The buoyancy in the water made it easy for you to rest with your knees bent to keep yourself submerged to your chin. You continued to run your hands over yourself underwater, cleaning yourself while you soaked. You hummed an old folk tune that your mother used to sing to you as a child, and you closed your eyes, basking in the peace of your surroundings. But your serenity was unexpectedly disrupted when you felt something ripple past your legs underwater.

You stilled and bolted upright to full height. There was something in the water…

Your thoughts rushed back to earlier when you’d been suspicious of Lo’ak’s snickering. He’d reassured you that there was no danger here and you knew, logically, that nothing lived in the waters of a hot spring, and yet, something had definitely moved past the backs of your legs underwater.

Heart beginning to race in your chest, you turned in a slow arc, scanning the murky water with wide eyes. The water was so black you could hardly see your own body past your hips. The steam was suddenly stifling and you licked your lips, swallowing down your rising anxiety.

With an almighty splash, something burst upward through the surface of the water behind you with a roar and an alarmed screech forced itself from your throat. You whirled around to face a looming figure, your chest heaving in fright. However, the loud roar the figure had emitted had morphed now into deep rumbles of laughter and you came face-to-face with a dripping wet Neteyam.

“You skxawng!” You shrieked in indignation, aiming several good splashes of water at him with your hands.

Neteyam’s mirth still had a firm grip over him and his rumbling laughter continued to reverberate around the rocky spring. Your fit of pique was quickly deflating in the face of his amusement as you watched him clutch at his sides, gasping for breath, his handsome face full of his merriment. The sound of his laughter was infectious and though you continued to cuss at him, your own voice was tremulous with your own laughter now.

“Great Mother, all these years we’ve hunted and patrolled together, facing packs of nantang (viperwolves) and palulukan (thanators) and not once have you ever screamed like that!” Neteyam hooted.

“Shut up, kurkung (asshole)! You gave me a huge scare!” You splashed him again and added a hard shove against his chest for good measure.

Neteyam caught your wrists and proceeded to mock scold you, “Hey, name-calling and physically assaulting your superior officer is the height of disrespect and insubordination.”

Wrenching your wrists free of his grasp, you ground out through your teeth, “Forgive me, sir, but you rudely interrupted my bath and nearly sent my soul to Eywa with your ambush.”

Flushed from your fright and suddenly feeling self-conscious, you folded your arms across your breasts. It was stupid really considering Neteyam had already seen all of you and more before.

Your eyes had accustomed themselves to the darkness now and you could see little rivulets of water cascading down his face from his wet hair. Droplets of water clung to the skin of his neck and chest, and his bioluminescent tanhì glimmered against his moist skin. The deep gold of his eyes were bright in lack of light and you forced yourself to look away, afraid you might drown in the mesmerising depths of them if you looked for too long.

Neteyam gave a quiet chuckle and he tilted his head downward to catch your downcast eyes, “Did I interrupt your bath or did you interrupt mine?”

You sucked in an astonished breath, remembering the other folded loincloth you’d seen on the rocks by the mouth of the hot spring. Confusion swirled in your mind and you shook your head, “Lo’ak told me there was no one here.”

Another rough chuckle, “No, he said there were no strangers here.”

Neteyam watched as you attempted to make sense of the situation. He’d already been in the hot spring when Lo’ak had led you here. He’d been partially hidden from your sight around the corner of the boulders in the middle of the pool, and you’d been too preoccupied to notice him through the steam.

“Maybe Lo’ak didn’t realise you were here.”

“Oh paskalin (sweet berry), he definitely knew I was here.”

Neteyam’s voice was low and husky, and the raspy sound rippled over you, sending warm tingles throughout you to your fingers, toes and other more private places. You looked to his face again and found him still watching you. A small grin played on his lips, his eyes gleamed with mischief and his ears were upright, fully focused on you.

The recollection of Silwey’s proposition to him earlier in the day resurfaced in your thoughts and you felt your mood sour again. He was probably freshening up before his play date…

You decided to leave him to it, trying your best to keep the sour taste in your mouth from bleeding into your tone, “Well, I’m sorry sir, for intruding on your bath. I’ll go now so you can finish up. I’m sure you’ve got somewhere to be, you know, someone waiting for you.”

Neteyam watched as you turned to leave, wading slowly through the spring towards its exit. He shook his head at your repeated address of him as ‘sir’ and he chortled under his breath. Your words were coolly said, but he didn’t miss the slight edge to them, especially when you referred to someone waiting for him. You were annoyed and he was fairly certain of the reason why. He knew you’d overheard part of his conversation with Silwey earlier today. Well, two could play this game of rank…

“Wait, tsamsiyu (warrior).”

You stopped in your tracks at the formal address. Neteyam’s tone was suddenly firm, the same one he used during your work days and instinct made you turn to face him again, “Sir?”

He began to advance towards you, his movement creating ripples in the spring’s surface at his approach. He stopped once there was a scant foot of space between you and his greater height forced your head to tilt back to maintain your eye contact with him.

“Just where do you think I’m meant to be right now at this hour? And who are you implying is waiting for me?” His question was a murmur, but his tone was still formal and there was a note of challenge in it.

Swallowing the growing lump in your throat, you replied, “I just meant that you’re a busy man and I shouldn’t hold you up.”

“Bullshit. Speak plainly.”

You were bewildered by Neteyam’s brusque response. Your eyes fell away from his and you shrank a little under the weight of his authority. He was pulling rank on you and questioning you. Perhaps your earlier remark hadn’t been as measured as you thought and your attitude had bled through. Unnerved, you wondered if you’d offended him.

Fortifying yourself through your increasing discomfort, you inhaled deeply and spoke, “What you choose to do in your time, and who you spend it with, is none of my concern. I apologise if I overstepped and misspoke. Permission to be dismissed, sir?”

“No.”

Shock lanced through you and you gasped. You’d expected your polite request for dismissal to be granted, but Neteyam had denied it outright. Unsure how to respond, your eyes mechanically found his face again and another wave of surprise rippled through you when you found him smirking at you.

Soft lines wrinkled your forehead as you frowned at him in puzzlement. When his smirk turned into a full-blown grin, you clicked and you realised he was toying with you. Your ears flattened in irritation and your lips pressed into a thin line. You adjusted your arms, crossing them even tighter across your naked chest, “You’re making fun of me.”

Neteyam’s expression softened and turned placating. He cocked his head at you, “You started this rank game. I was just playing along.”

You weren’t in the mood to banter with him right now. You just wanted to get out of there because every moment more that you spent in Neteyam’s presence was a reminder that he would soon be trotting off into Silwey’s arms for the night. Something he was entirely in his right to do… your conscience reminded again. It did nothing to soothe your bother.

“Right, well I’m going now.” You huffed, turning to continue making your departure.

“You don’t have to go. Stay.”

“No, I interrupted your bath. So, I’ll go.” You snapped.

“I was almost done. You only just got here. Really, you should stay. I’d best be off anyway-”

“Actually yes, why don’t you go?” You interrupted him, whirling around to face him. Your abrupt movement sent a torrent of warm water splashing onto the hot spring’s entryway behind you. He’d best be off indeed! It wouldn’t be polite to keep his playmate waiting… He would leave and you could stay to soak in the spring, and wallow some more in your stupid self-pity...

Your irritation flared and your next words were out of your mouth before you could stop them, “Better not keep Silwey waiting.”

A smug grin and chuckle was Neteyam’s answer to your remark and his response only aggravated you further.

There was an accompanying pinprick of hurt in your chest this time. Great Mother, was he still toying with you?... Was he rubbing it in that he was seeing someone exclusively tonight?... But why would he do that? You’d never known Neteyam to be unkind… And he didn’t even know how you felt… Or did he?

“You’re adorable when you’re upset.” Neteyam said, approaching you and closing the distance between the both of you once more.

“I’m not upset.” You feigned and you turned defiant eyes up at him when he stopped in front of you.

The water was shallower here near mouth of the hot spring. Where it had pooled beneath your breasts earlier, it now encircled your torso level with the tops of your hips. As Neteyam was taller, the waterline sat dangerously low on his pelvis and you kept your gaze firmly rooted on his face to curb the temptation to look down.

“Lying to your commanding officer is also a form of insubordination.”

By Eywa, you were tiring of this game... Why wouldn’t he just leave to go and meet Silwey already?

A scathing snort left you and you turned to continue your departure, “You’re not the boss of me outside of our work hours.”

Neteyam stopped you with a hand around your upper arm, “No, but I do like it when you call me ‘sir’. It has a certain ring to it that I’ve discovered I enjoy even outside our work hours.” His grip wasn’t loose but it wasn’t bruising either, just firm enough to impede your attempt to leave.

Still unwilling to uncross your arms from around your chest, you snarled at him in warning, “Let me go. I’m sure Silwey would be more than happy to indulge you in your little game. You are her commanding officer too, after all.”

“I’m not meeting Silwey tonight.”

A beat of silence passed as you took in Neteyam’s words, “What?”

Strong arms enveloped you in the next moment and you found yourself being dragged backwards into the deeper water of the hot spring. Wrapped in his embrace with your back crushed to his chest, Neteyam murmured by your ear, “I turned down her offer.”

You squirmed a little in the cage of his hold. One of his arms was wrapped around your shoulders while the other was snaked around your waist; you were well and truly trapped against him. You knew you were no match for his strength and the feminine part of you appreciated that fact. It revelled in how dainty you felt against his bigger frame.

You were unable to stem your curiosity and you questioned his decision, snapping at him, “Why? You obviously like her enough to have met her privately in the past.”

Neteyam took a breath and then exhaled, “The sex is good, but there’s no connection there. It’s physical and nothing else. Besides, it’s not Silwey’s company I find myself craving these days.” He gave a gravelly chuckle and you felt it rumble against your back. His voice turned teasing, “I knew you were eavesdropping, paskalin.”

It was an awkward angle but you craned your neck sideways to scowl at him, “Well, she wasn’t exactly quiet about it. She might as well have made an announcement before the entire clan.”

“And her offer upset you.”

Another fibbing refute was on the tip of your tongue when you stopped yourself. He’d already called you out before for being untruthful. He knew you were upset. No point trying to lie your way out of it.

Ever since you’d entered into this arrangement with Neteyam and Lo’ak, your feelings for Neteyam had become more and more difficult to ignore. Your play dates with the brothers were just physical entertainment and nothing more. Or at least, they were supposed to be… But the lines were now blurring horribly between physical and emotional, and your tetchy behaviour this evening was cold, hard evidence of this.

“I don’t like knowing that other women have you too.” Your admission was sulky and muttered so quietly that you weren’t sure if Neteyam even heard you, “When it’s just the three of us at the shack, I can just ignore everything else and pretend otherwise.”

“My, my, possessive are we?” His cocky remark rubbed you the wrong way.

You’d opened up in a moment of vulnerability and his tongue-in-cheek attitude made you feel like he was making fun of you again. With a renewed surge of annoyance, you twisted fiercely in his hold and he released you.

You spun to face him, arms still wrapped around yourself, “Didn’t you say you’d best be off? Fine, you’re not seeing Silwey tonight, but you’ve clearly got somewhere to be, so why don’t you just go so I can have some peace here?”

Neteyam wanted to make a smart quip about you kicking him out of his own family’s hot spring, but decided against it when he saw the glinting hurt in your eyes that you were trying and failing to conceal from him. He held his hands out of the water to show them to you, “What I meant was that I might as well be the one to leave seeing as my skin is getting wrinkly. I don’t actually have anywhere to be.”

“Oh.” Your voice was small.

“Do you want some time to yourself?” Was that a hint of regret you heard in his voice?

Neteyam didn’t want to leave you, if he was truthful. He’d spent the last few weeks waiting for an opportunity to get you alone, dithering in his decision around whether to just ask you outright. He’d been hesitant because he didn’t want to ruin the good thing they had going. He didn’t know whether you were content to just play with him and Lo’ak, and he was afraid that seeking you out on your own might be too close for comfort for you.

The realisation this afternoon that you were annoyed by Silwey’s advances on him was a real stroke to his ego, and he’d teased you about it. However, he comprehended now that his attempt at banter had backfired on him as you appeared more upset than he’d initially thought. Lo’ak had handed him an opportunity tonight, but he may have just blown it…

You fidgeted, your fingers squeezing your upper arms where they were wrapped around you while you deliberated your answer. Eywa, you didn’t want time to yourself if the alternative was a chance at time alone with Neteyam…

You had a chance here to indulge the tender feelings you had for him. You knew it was a dangerous game to play. He was the future olo’eyktan and he would one day mate a woman fit to be tsahìk. That would not be you. You were a warrior, like he was. Neteyam would never be yours and it was stupid to risk your heart for a chance at knowing him like this.

But you were always foolish when it came to him…

“No, you can stay.” You mumbled meekly, “If you want to, that is.”

A tight twinge scorched across your left shoulder muscle then and you gasped, straightening your arm to stretch out the cramp that had seized hold of you. You hissed in pain, grimacing in discomfort.

The water sloshed and lapped as Neteyam rushed to you. He took hold of your cramping arm, crossing it over your front, “Here, stretch across like that and hold it. The cramp should ease soon.”

“Ow, ow!” You whined, stretching your arm across as hard as you could to relieve the cramping muscle. You felt Neteyam’s firm fingers begin to press and push at the knot and relief thankfully found you as the muscle relaxed again. You groaned with a sigh, “Ugh that one hurt like a bitch.”

“You’re very tense across your shoulders. Are you really sore?”

“Yes, that’s why Lo’ak suggested I bathe here in the hot spring.”

Neteyam grinned to himself behind your back, continuing to rub and work at your shoulder muscles. He really owed Lo’ak one now… His brother was an excellent wingman… The fact that you were sore had probably been a nice coincidence in Lo’ak’s plan. His brother would have led you to the spring anyway knowing he was already in there.

“I’m sorry if I upset you with my teasing. I wasn’t doing it to be mean.” Neteyam muttered at your back. “If it’s any consolation I’m possessive of you too. I don’t like sharing you, not even with my brother.”

His words made your heart skip a beat and you curled your tail around his lower leg underwater, “I know.”

You knew he wasn’t fond of sharing. You’d seen it in the way he interacted with you and his brother during your play nights at the shack, but hearing him admit it was satisfying.

Encouraged, Neteyam stepped forward to press himself against your back, his hands still massaging at your shoulders. Your skin was silky smooth and slick under his fingers and your bottom was plush against the front of his hips. His cock twitched in interest and he felt desirous heat pool in his groin. Tucking his chin to nuzzle lightly at the crook of your neck, he drew in the sweetness of your scent which had mixed with the spiciness of the bath oil. You smelled like a delicious treat he’d been hankering after…

Growing more and more relaxed from the wonderful shoulder massage Neteyam was giving you, you let your arms drop and float to your sides in the water, uncaring that it exposed your breasts to him. The little sniffs and puffs of his breath as he scented you were ticklish against the skin of your neck and you grinned silently, fighting the urge to shiver. Reaching back a little, you let your hands ghost over the outsides of his thighs, your fingertips dancing against the firm muscle beneath smooth skin. A deep and rumbling purr was Neteyam’s response of delight.

You’d played with Neteyam before, but it was different like this alone in the hot spring and without Lo’ak as a second playmate. Your current ambience was far more intimate. It felt less like physical play and more like a deep, emotive bonding session with a significant other. Your conscience sounded the alarm bells and your heart bolstered its defences.

You could play with him, but under no circumstances could you fall for him…

Clearing your throat lightly, you turned your head a bit so you could look him in the eye to thank him, “Mm, thanks for that. It’s helped. Do you want me to give you a rub too?”

Neteyam wrinkled his nose at you and the action was both endearing and charming. The press and rub of his fingers against your shoulders didn’t stop though. He bit his lower lip and grinned cheekily at you, “Not a shoulder rub, no.”

The innuendo was clear and you rolled your eyes at him with a small snort. He laughed and the sound was soothing and warm. Damn him and his stupidly handsome face… Which you then realised was beginning to lean down ever so slowly towards yours.

The long lashes that framed Neteyam’s eyes fluttered enchantingly as his gaze shifted between your eyes and your lips, “Can I kiss you, paskalin?”

You could never deny him… not when he always sought your permission so sweetly…

Your body was one step ahead of your brain and you craned your neck back to press your lips to his. The fire of your desire ignited, his kiss like fuel to the flames that consumed you and scorched you from head to toe. A throbbing ache struck up a rhythm at the apex of your thighs, your body instantly yearning to be touched and stroked, surrounded by and filled to the brim with him.

Neteyam groaned against your lips, his head twisting and his mouth opening to allow your tongues to waltz. Your hands snaked farther backward to clutch at his buttocks, pulling his hips and the evidence of his arousal flush against your lower back and bottom. He took a breath and hissed at the contact.

The heat of the water against the lower half of your body was a delightful contrast to the cool air against your upper half. You arched your back against Neteyam, pushing your breasts outward, nipples stiffening to peaks as the wafting steam caressed its way past them on its ascent to the sky.

Neteyam’s lips left yours and proceeded to score a heated path down the side of your neck with lapping kisses. Eyes heavy-lidded through your soaring lust, his name was a breathless sigh on your lips, “Neteyam.”

He gave a low growl at the sound of his name, and his massaging hands moved from kneading your shoulders to trail downward over your collarbone, drifting lower until his calloused palms met your hardened nipples. His voice was rough, “I can’t get enough of you. Every evening at the shack just makes me want you more. Do you know how hard it is to have you as my second-in-command when all I want to do during the day is pin you down and have my way with you?”

Your core pulsed and thrilled at his coarse words. You could feel the tingling of your folds, knew that your body was readying itself with warm, slippery wetness to be penetrated to the hilt.

A smart retort surfaced in your mind and you shot him a brazen grin, “I’m sorry, sir.”

The smile that slowly spread across Neteyam’s face at your comment was positively wicked. It was practically a leer. “Obedience and good manners will get you a long way with me, warrior.”

Slick from the bath oil, you leant back against him while he fondled your breasts, his lips nibbling at the soft point of one ear. You’d never realised how sensitive your ears were, but they were definitely an erogenous zone for you. Every nip and kiss to the skin there made your legs weak and your pussy throb. You could feel the solid length and weight of his erection pressing insistently into your lower back like an unspoken invitation to you of the bodily ecstasy it could bring you.

Neteyam verbalised his invitation, nonetheless, in a rumbling purr, “Play with me tonight. Here. Just you and me.”

Your thighs gave an involuntary squeeze together, the ache in your pussy suddenly growing so intense it felt hotter than the water of the spring you currently stood in. You felt Neteyam clasp your jaw with one hand, tilting your head back and twisting your face so he could plunder your mouth again with his lips and tongue. The velvet sweep and suction of his kiss ensured that what little hesitation you had was promptly abandoned.

However, you couldn’t suppress another sassy retort from leaving your lips, “I don’t know. You don’t have any of those sex toys here tonight to rock my world.”

Neteyam bent his knees slightly, bringing his hips in line with your bottom, and he reached down to reposition his cock so it could slide between your thighs and against your slick folds. His chuckle was dark and his voice was full of sensuous promise in the most sinful of ways, “Oh paskalin, you and I both know that I don’t need any of those toys to have you screaming my name tonight.”

You twisted around to face him, throwing your arms around his neck to claim his lips in a desirous kiss. His hands found your upper thighs and he lifted you easily to wrap your legs around his hips, his hands coming to rest against your bottom. He broke the meld of your lips then and he was breathless as he asked, “Is that a yes? I want to hear you say it.”

This new position in his arms found your face elevated over his. Framing his face with your hands, you peered down into the captivating depths of his eyes and panted back at him, “Yes.”

“Yes, who?” Neteyam’s eyes glinted naughtily and you understood the implication. He wanted to continue playing his game of rank with you…

“Yes, sir.”

The warm water rushed around you then in a surge as Neteyam hoisted you higher in his arms and walked you backwards until your back met the tall rocks behind you, pinning you against it. The rock was warm against your back and while its surface was not jagged, it was still coarse enough to be abrade your skin if you moved too roughly against it.

Neteyam nuzzled at the soft mound of one breast, and you emitted a startled gasp when he sealed his mouth over it, drawing your nipple into his hot mouth with a tormenting suck that made you keen in pleasure. He followed this with flicks of his tongue against the stiff bud of it, and your head lolled backward to land with a mildly painful thud against the rock.

Playing with your body was both pain and pleasure for Neteyam. He relished giving you pleasure and revelled in the way your body writhed and reacted. Your whimpers and moans were music to his ears, but all of this never failed to send his arousal soaring to a fevered pitch, which was where the pain came in. His cock was achingly hard, flexing and throbbing with the desperate need to be buried snugly inside you. His balls felt heavy and swollen, full of seed that his body yearned to gift to you.

With your legs clamped tight around his hips still, and leaving one hand and forearm under your bottom to help keep you propped up, he shifted his other hand towards your core. His knuckles brushed your slick centre and Neteyam groaned against the pillowy flesh of your breasts. You were so slippery soft and ready for him already… but he wanted to tease you more…

Running his knuckles over your pussy, he extended his fingers and gently breached you with two of them, earning him another cry from you. He knew what you liked and he curled his fingers just so, finding the spongey spot on your inner walls that he knew would drive you wild, as he pumped them in and out.

It was an incredible combination of sensation whenever he suckled on your breasts and played with your core. You were already beginning to see stars behind the tight clench of your closed eyelids.

Losing yourself in the building waves of pleasure, you moaned his name harshly with a curse, “Oh fuck, Neteyam.”

His mouth left your breast with succulent pop, “Is that the way to address your commanding officer?” He curled his fingers aggressively inside you, winding the coil of pressure in your pelvis even tighter.

Your apology was a whimper, “No, sorry sir.”

“I’m going to take care of you tonight, but only if you follow my lead. Is that clear?” Neteyam instructed, his speech adopting the formal tone he used with the platoon during the daytimes. He gave a deliberate twist of his fingers and your breath hitched.

“Mm, y-yes sir.”

“What’s your safe word if you need to use it, sweet girl?”

“Tsyoklìt.”

Neteyam couldn’t help his chuckle. It was the same safe word you always used after you had first chosen it when him and Lo’ak had started experimenting with some wilder forms of sexual play with you. However, it wasn’t so much your repetitive choice that amused him but the word itself and the backstory behind it.

Tsyoklìt was a Na’vi word phonetically loaned from its English counterpart: Chocolate.

Your reaction to trying the sweet human treat for the first time would forever remain one of Neteyam’s fondest memories.

The two of you had been younger, still adolescents training to pass your rites of passage to become warriors. It had been a very successful day at training and his father had decided to reward the learners with some chocolate. Jake had handed out the unfamiliar treat, which was then observed and examined with cautious sniffs and curious eyes. He and Lo’ak were already familiar with the foodstuff and had eagerly tucked into their share, prompting the others to do the same.

Most of the trainees had reacted with positive surprise, but not you. Your face had twisted into a grimace at the saccharine taste, lips turning into an unpleasant pout as you fought to swallow the sickeningly sweet bite you had taken. Neteyam had tried very hard not to laugh at your aversion and when he’d asked you what was wrong, you’d told him, “It’s way too sweet. It’s too much, far too much.”

So, in a way, your choice of safe word was rather fitting if things got too much.

Neteyam growled against your chest, feeling the contractions of your inner walls around his fingers, “Fuck, you’re irresistible, you know that? So beautiful and your body is perfect, so responsive.”

The stroking thrusts of Neteyam’s fingers in and out of you was pleasurable, but it wasn’t enough. You wriggled lightly, wishing you could somehow rock your hips to bring some friction against your clit, but the firm hold he had under your bottom and the way he had you trapped against the rock made for a rather unforgiving position.

“I need more.” You murmured your words languorously, and water droplets splattered softly against the spring’s surface when you lifted your hands to weave your fingers through Neteyam’s braids. You writhed again, attempting to find more friction, and Neteyam gave a warning snarl when your fingers tightened in his hair, pulling against his scalp.

“Demanding, are we?” He crooned, nipping at the skin of your neck, “Patience. Good things come to those who wait.”

Neteyam’s grip around your bottom eased and he stepped back so he was no longer pressing you against the rocks. You unwound your legs, sliding down his frame to stand again, very aware of the way his erection bounced free of your thighs as you untangled yourself from him. Your hands flew instantly to his swollen length, teasing it with a stroke-and-twist action you’d discovered Neteyam liked. He gave a guttural grunt and one of his hands flew to brace itself against the rocks.

Your smile was cunning and you chuckled low and husky at him, “It seems I’m not the only one who’s impatient, sir.”

Neteyam snickered, “It’s always an exercise in patience with you.” He let your hands relieve some of the pressure for the time being, content to bury his face into the crook of your neck while he moaned and littered your skin with gentle bites.

Great Mother, you loved when he was like this… Muscles flexing and relaxing, hot breaths against you while he shuddered and groaned from the pleasure you were inflicting on him. His cock was gorgeous like the rest of him: lengthy, thick, and beautiful cerulean blue, with a fat head that drizzled pre-cum if you teased him just right, and speckled with tanhì that glowed bright when he was close to the edge.

Pressing your cheek to his temple, you whispered to him, “You’re gorgeous and I want you inside me so badly.”

The twisting and throbbing pleasure in Neteyam’s midsection sparked in warning at your words and his hands flew to halt the motion of yours. Any more stimulation and he was going to lose his control and spill before he was ready to. He stayed your wrists when you tried to tease his cock some more and he flashed you a cautionary glance, “I need to cool off.”

Looping your arms around his neck you pushed off the balls of your feet to wrap your legs about his hips again. You whined, “No, I need you now.” Wriggling your hips, you felt the head of his cock brush your core where you wanted him most, but Neteyam snaked his arms under your bottom to keep you apart.

“No, I want to enjoy playing with you some more first. My mouth is watering to taste you.”

You bleated in frustration, “No, take me now. Please? Please, sir!”

Neteyam gave a throaty chuckle, walking you both towards the mossy bank, “Nice try.”

Reaching the moss-topped embankment, Neteyam lifted your body and sat you down on it, “Lie back, paskalin.”

He remained in the hot spring, the water pooling about his waist. The edge of the bank sat flush against his sternum and his intention was clear in his eyes as gently pushed against your chest, urging you to lie down. Neteyam had expressed his desire to taste you and you knew that he was going to do just that; torture you with his lips and tongue until you were begging for all of him.

Leaning down with a slight pout at being denied your request to be penetrated, you stole one last kiss from his moist lips before obeying his instruction, “Yes, sir.”

“Good girl.” Neteyam purred, watching as you lay down and automatically lifted your legs into the air, bent at the knees, to display yourself to him.

He almost groaned and his cock throbbed eagerly at the erotic vision you made. Dewdrops of water clung to the supple skin of your thighs and though all of you was damp from the hot spring, your pussy glistened with your own slick moisture. The elevation of the bank was perfect for what he was about to do. All he had to do was lean down a little and he’d be able to lick and delve through your slick folds.

Curling one large hand around one of your hips to steady you, he ran his other in a tantalising rub over your lower belly. When the first lap of his tongue stroked over your core, you jumped with a soft wail. He bent to kiss you where you now burned the hottest, his tongue and lips making love to your clit, isolating it and sucking moderately. He took his time tasting you, drinking you in leisurely and languidly. It’d always taken your breath away how skilled Neteyam was with this particular act.

When you don’t want to give the whole of your body to another, you learn to please them in other ways… This was what he’d told you once. Fortunately for you, this was only ever a warm-up. You’d have all of him in the end, you just needed to be patient.

It wasn’t just his lips and tongue that Neteyam employed, he would rub his nose back and forth over you too. And then his fingers would join the endeavour, curling, stroking and stoking your pleasure higher and higher until you felt like you were thin and brittle glass, ready to shatter at any moment.

Your core pulsated with bliss as Neteyam continued his work. His mouth continued its suckling on your clit and two of his fingers gave your pussy the attention it so craved. Your hands were clutching at his braids, your hips rocking against his face as you whimpered and moaned. The atmosphere felt hot. It’d been a little chilly when he’d first lifted you from the warm water, but that was no longer the case. Your body burned for him, the pressure in your lower belly taut and tight, on the brink of orgasm.

“Oh, I’m so close,” Your breaths were heaving, your voice unstable, and you only caught yourself just in time from saying his name instead of his formal address as you pleaded, “N-Nete- Sir, please!”

Neteyam’s approval at your formal address of him rumbled against you. He fought a smirk, keeping his lips and tongue trained on the swollen bud at the apex of your thighs. You were so slick that the action of his fingers was squelching obscenely and he swore his cock was pulsing in time with each clench and throb of your pussy.

Boldly, knowing that he and his brother had experimented with you recently in this form of play, he moved his free hand from your hip to run a slick thumb over your butthole. You startled a little at the feel of it, but he continued to massage his thumb over the puckered flesh. There were no toys present tonight, but he knew you’d enjoyed the use of the butt plugs during the last couple of sessions at the shack. His thumb would have to do tonight.

You gave a muffled yelp at the addition of Neteyam’s thumb in your butt. It was a third point of pleasure on top of what he was already doing, and it only served to intensify the rhythmic clenching of your pelvic muscles. You could feel that you were flushed from head to toe. Your thighs were trembling where they hung suspended and splayed wide in the air, and your nipples were erect, kissing the night air. But Great Mother, the paradise that you were experiencing between your thighs was staggering. You lifted your head and tipped your chin forward to look down at Neteyam, only to find his golden eyes trained right back at you as he drove your body to its limit.

There was no holding on anymore at that point. The intensity of the lust in his eyes tipped you over the precipice you’d been teetering on. Your fist flew to your mouth, stifling your shriek of ecstasy as the waves of pleasure crested and crashed over you.

Neteyam was fighting a battle of his own, wrestling with what little remained of his body’s control as he watched and felt your body explode with pleasure. Your body squeezed around his fingers and he had a fleeting moment of panic when he felt his glutes tighten and his cock tense up, ready to spurt. Removing himself from you, he held on with everything he had through a clenched jaw.

Spent, you lowered your legs and let your shins hang off the embankment’s edge. You watched through bleary eyes as Neteyam rinsed lightly, before he hauled himself out of the water and onto the bank with a splash. He scooted backwards to join you and he stretched out alongside your form, one of his hands immediately moving to cup your cheek so he could tilt your head to kiss you.

“You did so well, sweet girl. Not that you’ve ever disappointed before.” He smoothed a palm over your head, patting down the stray fly-aways of hair from your forehead.

“Thank you,” You mumbled, and when his forehead crinkled in question, awaiting something, you rolled your eyes and added, “Sir.”

Neteyam rolled onto his side towards you, his big body sheltering you as he moved to twine one of his legs between yours, “I nearly lost my control back there.” He spoke against your lips between deep kisses, his breath hot and sweet against your mouth, “My every waking thought is tainted with you. My nightly dreams are wild with you. You drive me insane, Neyomi.”

You swallowed his every kiss, every declaration he made adding to the blooming warmth you had tried so hard for weeks to stifle in your heart. You wanted him alone like this every night. You wanted him to yourself, whenever and wherever you wished. You were drowning wholly and unreservedly in him. You were in way over your head with your emotions now and you knew it.

Clutching at one of his buttocks, you shifted beneath him and urged the rest of his heavy weight to settle over you and in the cradle of your hips, “Then take me now, sir. Have me how you want.”

Chuckling darkly, Neteyam briefly rose to sit on his haunches with his knees folded. He tucked your bottom closer to the vee of his thighs and placed his hands behind your knees, “You’ve been so good playing our little game today, addressing me formally. But I’m going to make you scream one more time tonight.” He pressed his weight downward, folding your legs back until your ankles were almost in line with your ears. He settled himself over you, bracing his weight on his elbows and he purred against your cheek, “And when you scream, paskalin, I want to hear my name on your lips. Am I clear?”

It was an erotic promise delivered with all the confidence of a man who knew he would succeed in his task, and as you lay sprawled and folded over beneath him, all you could do was submit to the coming onslaught of pleasure, “Yes, sir.”

Blood pounded in your ears in anticipation as you felt Neteyam position his cock at your entrance, the blunt head of it probing for the right angle to sink into your depths. With a slight adjustment to the tilt of your hips, he found home and he penetrated you in one full thrust. You threw your head back with a strangled cry at the gratifying fullness of him. The position you were in allowed for the deepest penetration possible and you felt all of him like this.

“You alright?” Neteyam queried, checking in with you though his own voice sounded strained.

You nodded, and it was all the permission he needed.

Drawing his hips back, Neteyam slammed back into you, setting a punishing pace as he thrusted. Every single stroke of his hips drove the head of his cock past your g-spot and it slid all the way in to hit your cervix. The sensation was a mixture of both pain and pleasure in the most carnally satisfying way. There was so much of him, your pussy enveloping his hard length from root to tip repeatedly as his thrusts continued to wind the coil of pressure tighter between your hips. His breathing was harsh by your ear and the sounds leaving him were an erotic mixture of growls, grunts, moans and whimpers.

Neteyam was unaware of anything else around him currently, singularly focused on you and spellbound by the immense pleasure radiating throughout his midsection. Your own cries and mewls spurred him on and when he felt you snake a hand between your bodies to rub at your clit, he knew you were fast approaching your climax, and so was he.

Your inner walls fluttered around his cock and he let his head drop against your neck. Through the haze of your bliss you heard him grate out one last order, “Squirt for me, sweet girl. I know you can. I can feel how you need to.”

And you knew you would. There was little doubt about it as the familiar feeling of needing to release something burned behind your pubic bone. You almost always did now whenever Neteyam fucked you. There was just something about him; whether it was the way your bodies came together, the shape and size of his cock, the way he thrusted, or the way he would often whisper filthy things in to your ear, you always had very wet orgasms with him.

No other man had ever made your body feel the way he did. Not even Lo’ak had succeeded in making you squirt (much to his chagrin). It seemed your body reserved that rightly solely for Neteyam.

Your orgasm threatened, looming on the horizon while you massaged your clit faster. It was all pleasure; burning, aching, throbbing pleasure and you whined, straining to reach the burst of release that was so mind-blowing it sometimes felt like you’d blacked out for several moments.

“That’s it.” Neteyam encouraged, still maintaining the gruelling rhythm of his thrusts, “What’s my name?”

“N-Neteyam.” Your voice was a stuttered sob.

“Good girl. Let go, paskalin. Scream for me.”

With several heaving intakes of breath, you felt your orgasm crash through you, your pussy contracting rhythmically while several sprays of squirt spattered between your colliding bodies. His name tore from your throat in a carnal scream that you threw to the night sky above you, “NETEYAM!”

Neteyam’s entire frame strained and then tensed, and a grating growl left him as his own climax followed. His cock pulsed hard as he ejaculated, his hips pressed so tightly to yours it was as if he wanted to become one with your body and never part from you again. He slumped onto his side, breathless and panting rapidly while his body fought to find its equilibrium again after its euphoria. Yours was doing the same while you rested flat on your back with limp legs.

Usually, the afterglow after you’d played with Neteyam and Lo’ak was peaceful and pleasant, the three of you just cuddling and talking before cleaning up. However, tonight you felt uneasy in the face of your waning pleasure and you were very aware of Lo’ak’s absence. Neteyam was sprawled lethargically to your left, one of his legs tangled with yours while one of his arms was thrown over your abdomen.

It was a confronting sight and situation, being alone post-sex with Neteyam with nothing or no one else there to distract your mind from spiralling into the mess of your emotions. Your body still hummed with the remnants of your climax, but your heart seized in your chest with the realisation Neteyam had ruined you for anyone else now. You were quite certain that your body, mind and soul would never yearn for any other like it did for this man.

“Hey, you.” Neteyam’s voice crooned softly, and you returned your attention to him. His eyes were heavy with his somnolence and his expression was soft, contented. He stroked a finger over your cheek and trailed it over your lips. You instinctively puckered your lips in a gentle kiss.

“Hey,” You parroted, suddenly lost for words and not knowing what else to say.

He leaned over towards you and gathered you in his arms so you were flush against his chest. He stroked a warm hand over your hair before he began to lay tender kisses on your face; your cheek, your nose, both your eyes and then your forehead. It was both wonderfully and terrifyingly intimate.

You were in far too deep. You’d taken a risk; a beautiful and indulgent risk, and it was abundantly clear to you now how unwise it had been. Neteyam was out of your reach as a potential mate. You could never be truly his. It wasn’t your place.

His hand continued its path of caresses over your face, and you felt him rub his cheek against your head. The occasional brush of his lips along your hairline or along the delicate shell of your ear followed while he murmured sweet nothings to you; about how beautiful you were; how good you had been with him; how good you felt in his arms…

This dreamy intimacy had to stop. There was a line between body play and love, and you didn’t know where it was anymore. This was too much, too sweet…

One word slipped from your lips, painful in the implication of its meaning, “Tsyoklìt.”

Neteyam stilled at the mention of your safe word. He pulled back a little to regard you with a furrowed brow. Your playtime session had ended, so your utterance of the word was unexpected.

Meeting your gaze, he found your eyes wide with uncertainty and several emotions flashed across his handsome face as his mind processed your reaction: Mild confusion, slight amusement, surprise, and then sudden comprehension. A mumbled apology tumbled from his lips. He pushed up on an elbow to sit up, shuffling away to put some space between you at the realisation that he’d made you uncomfortable with his tender show of affection.

You felt a sharp pinprick in your chest as he moved away from you. It was the last thing you wanted… but you had to work smart now… You couldn’t dig yourself a hole any bigger than the one you were already in or you’d never make it out…

The atmosphere was suddenly taut with uncomfortable tension. It felt like something between the both of you had shifted; like the world was now somehow wrong and sitting off its intended axis. You swallowed the burgeoning lump in your throat and stared wordlessly at the man before you.

Neteyam’s expression was neutral, but you knew he’d schooled it that way intentionally. But he hadn’t done it quickly enough for you to miss the hurt that had flickered in his eyes for a brief moment.

Eywa, what had you done?... What had you both done?... You were so thoroughly fucked in this mess now…

***~~~***

Author's Note:Thank you all so much for reading. Thank you for all your support! It means the absolute world to me to hear from you. Comments, likes & reblogs are always so appreciated. 💕

I do have a Part 4 planned, and we will see another Sully bro threesome in it, plus more emotional drama between NeteyamxReader (Neyomi).

Let me know if I have your user in the taglist wrong and for those who'd like to be added, give me a shout in the comments. 😄

Part IV - Haunted by You now HERE

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